


Scandal

by cutiebunny



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Dimension Travel, F/M, Time Loop, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2019-09-22 21:29:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 40,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17067473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cutiebunny/pseuds/cutiebunny
Summary: Snarky, foul-mouthed, sarcastic, and brazenly unapologetic, the high-flying 21st century city-girl who doesn’t shy away from her desires meets Vincent Phantomhive, golden child of some (in)famous Earl family born with a silver spoon in mouth-type with no real life crisis.  He lived in comfy 19th century with everything laid out to him, and she in tumultuous, uncertain 21st century. Then their path cross and scandalous parties, a secret affair, steamy hook-ups become another day in the life Julia Hemsworth.Scandalous parties, a secret affair, steamy hook-ups become another day in the life Julia Hemsworth.





	1. Wonderland

 

Julia's relationship with A&E was an arduously and somewhat comically carved friendship in the story of faint scars and disfigurements that had accumulated over the years, some of which were neck sprain and wrist fracture from bending over to hug a dog and slipping; knocking herself out while trying to eat nachos when jar of salsa she was giving a good shake administered the coup de grâce and walking through glass window that left her with small slices in her body. Her medical record, according to Dr Steele, was a source of joke amongst medical students that one should be wary of life’s cruel gag.

She heard the automatic door slide open, the angry click-clack announcing a particular presence she very much wanted to avoid accompanied by her booming shouts of displeasure having left her teaching job in emergency after a phone call from the hospital, “Can you explain to me young lady why we’re here IN A&E?! AGAIN?!”

Her dad, a much milder and quiet of the pair, followed in soon after with lines of worries sketched in his forehead, “What’s going on?”

Julia always was always fascinated by her parent’s interaction toward each other. They were divorced - having married each other at a mere age of 18 and 19 respectively before it lasted few years – but they seemed to be on an amicable term with each other like long-time friends even when she was a child. She hadn’t even known they were divorced until she was 12. She simply thought they lived separately because of their busy jobs although she wasn’t sure whether their friendship took on the least pleasant elements built on duty, rather than for their own enjoyment.

Her dad muttered something, presumably to rationalise her obviously thoughtless decision that landed her in the hospital bed but her mum simply shot him down with a warning glare, “Good reason?! Hashtag-YOLO?! Gerald, really?! What good reason is there to jump off some blimey rollercoaster?!” Directing her wrath back to the source and from the look on her face, it had to be a good damn one, “Well?”

“I just felt like it.” She gave a casual shrug of her shoulder, mind blank and resigning to her fate, “I didn’t want to ride anymore.”

“What are you going to do WITH YOUR LIFE?!”

"Become a unicorn so I can stab people with my head."

“Oh my GOD!” Her mother growled in exasperation, pinching the slope of her nose and another hand resting on her hip.

“Now honey, she’s just a baby–“

“She’s 19! She’s in university!”

“Ok, a child. It’s a good university so she obviously works hard and is smart.” He quickly interjected with a firm hand on her shoulder, “At least she didn’t die..”

“Well she’s gonna die from stupidity sooner or later!”

Just then, her doctor entered the room with a small smile that meant he had good news.

“Well, Jane, she’s completely fine. No fractures or anything. She’s good to go.”

“Have you checked her for alcohol and drug?”

The doctor, a family friend, remained silent but it was more than enough for Jane to know that consumption of alcohol and perhaps drug had in fact been the trigger to the incident. Julia gulped, she knew that look in her eyes and she was rewarded with a good thump in her head.

“OW! Mum!”

“You’re lucky we’re in public place and we have rules here! If this was Nigeria––“

“Yeah, yeah, mum, broomstick, flippers, bamboo stick, I know.”

Jane threw her hands in the air in surrender, “I don’t know what I’m going to do with you. Thank you Dr Steele.” Jane sighed in relief, “Say hello to your family for me.”

“I’ll do. Oh, Grace wants to invite you for Saturday dinner and hope you’ll call her with the answer.”

“Oh, yes, tell her I’ll come.” Jane smiled, then glared at Julia, “Well, come on than!”

Julia sighed in relief; a small thump in her head was better than being six feet underground and reached for the table to help herself to the candy jar with familiar groove, “See you later, Dr Steele.”

“See you. Just try not to do anything reckless.” Dr Steele shook his head, “Stay out of legal troubles!”

* * *

“Today, we will look at poison, to be precise: Arsenic,” The lecturer addressed to his pupils via the small mike attached to his shirt, “You all learnt in forensic class that the unexplained death of someone with no obvious trauma and no medical history or trouble require toxicological analysis.”

Half of the class (mostly dressed in their PJs) was asleep while other half seemed more immersed in their game app or YouTube on their tablets.

“Arsenic has been called ‘The King of Poisons’, for its discreetness and potency – it was virtually undetectable, so it was very often used either as a murder weapon or as a mystery story element. But that’s until the Marsh test came and signalled the presence of this poison in water, food and the like. However, this king of poisons has taken many famous lives: Napoleon Bonaparte, George the 3rd of England and Simon Bolivar to name a few. On another note, arsenic, like belladonna, was used by the Victorians for cosmetic reasons. A couple of drops of the stuff made a woman’s complexion white and pale. Just perfect!”

It was shame because the professor was trying hard to entertain them.

“The first breakthrough in the detection of arsenic poisoning was in 1775 when Carl Wilhelm Scheele discovered a way to change arsenic trioxide to garlic-smelling arsine gas (AsH3), by treating it with nitric acid (HNO3) and combining it with zinc.”

Up on the screen came the equation:

 As2O3 + 6 Zn + 12 HNO3 → 2 AsH3 + 6 Zn(NO3)2 + 3 H2O

“Then in 1787, Johann Metzger discovered that if arsenic trioxide was heated in the presence of charcoal, a shiny black powder (arsenic mirror) would be formed over it. This is the reduction of As2O3 by carbon: 2 As2O3 + 3 C → 3 CO2 + 4 As. In 1806, Valentin Rose took the stomach of a victim suspected of being poisoned and treated it with potassium carbonate (K2CO3), calcium oxide (CaO) and nitric acid. Any arsenic present would appear as arsenic trioxide and then could be subjected to Metzger's test. However, the most common test, and used even today in water test kits, was discovered by Samuel Hahnemann. It would involve combining a sample fluid with hydrogen sulfide (H2S) in the presence of hydrochloric acid (HCl). A yellow precipitate, arsenic trisulfide (As2S3) would be formed if arsenic were present.”

“Yess!” Julia heard her friend hiss with a discreet victorious fist in the air, “I beat your high score in flappy bird.”

“Wow.” She deadpanned.

“Since today is the last day of your first year, I’ll shorten the lesson–“

“YEAH!” One guy in Pikachu onesie stood up with victory pump in the air eliciting laughter from the rest of the hall much to the disapproval of the professor.

“If you keep on with that attitude, the only job you’ll get is mcworker.”

Another laughter.

“Now enjoy your holiday, devil’s spawns.” He smiled, eyes wrinkling, “Play hard but work hard too.”

* * *

_I'm not Snow White  
But I'm lost inside this forest_

__  
I'm not Red Riding Hood  
But I think the wolves have got me

 __  
Don't want your stilettos  
I'm not, not Cinderella

 __  
I don't need a knight  
So baby take off all your armour

 __  
You be the beast,  
And I'll be the beauty beauty

 __  
Take me to wonderland!  
Take me to take me

 

“What can l get you?” The bartender shouted over the music and bustling murmurs of the people at the bar.

 

“I’ll have a Panty Dropper.”

“Screaming Orgasm.”

“A Slow Comfortable Screw.”

He then turned to Julia who for a moment seemed distracted by someone out of the corner of her eyes before quickly replying, “Adios Motherfucker.”

“Cool!”

“Tyler is mine! Why would Tyler go for someone who's banged the whole football team and the whole rugby squad and even the whole of Ultimate Frisbee club?” Julia glanced over at the two girls in midst of heated altercation with interest, “In fact, are there any boys left in this entire uni who've managed to avoid the COMSIC SUCTION FORCE OF YOUR VAGINA?!”Julia raised her brow and silently sipped her ‘Adios Motherfucker’ that was slide to her from the side.

“Hey-“

“I’m married.” Julia quickly dismissed, not taking her eyes off her phone. The guy looked a little put off, eyeing her obvious liberal left finger but he was smart enough to understand her message and moved on to another girl in the bar.

“That’s mean.” Her friend commented.

“That dude was Tyler.”

“Who?”

“The guy the girls were fighting-well, fighting right now.” Now the fight had evolved into fists and hair pull as crowds began to gather.

“How did you know?” They glanced over their shoulder where the guy disappeared to.

“Cuz it said it on his shirt.” Julia pointed toward the guy whose shirt were printed with ‘Eeyy sexay laday, oppa Taylor-style’ both on front and back of his shirt before quickly dialling a number after shooing away her friends.

“Hello?”

“Hey. Hot guy from the bar who hit on you last week is here.” Julia reported.

She could almost hear her friend sigh from the phone, “Tsk. J, I'm studying. Something you should learn to do.”

“I’m young and enjoying life, studying isn’t everything. Beside, you should be studying the ceiling of his bedroom.” Julia exclaimed.

The guy, seemingly in his late 30s, sweaty, dull hair with bald patch in the middle, swirled around desperately expectant with a toothy smile.

“In what world, honey?” Julia shook her head, her finger making a u-turn and guided his chin around “Please, turn around. No.”

“The poor guy.” Liz noted over the phone as Julia pleaded. “Come on, take a break. It'll be good for you to get out.”

“And by get out...”

“...I mean have hot guy from the bar knock you into his headboard until you see God and Jesus and all his angels in glory.” Julia described.

“What is wrong with you?”

“I’m just saying what you’ve wanted to say all along!” Julia shrugged carelessly, “You should be studying the curve of his cock!”

“Okay, goodbye, J. Don’t party too much.” Liz hung up the phone with a smile.

“That too much?  Hello?” Julia asked, the silence confirming her answer as she gulped down the burning vodka in one shot before she was hurled onto the centre by one of her friend.

The dance floor pounded with heat and neon lights, dying the youngsters with red and yellow as warm bodies grinded one another. The club was noisy and rowdy with laughter, bellows and cheers; the heavy scent of drugs, alcohol and perfume hung in the air and their inhibition had long since been unleashed with unabashed carelessness.

The teenagers were having the time of their life – the once in a lifetime – that will never come again and enjoying it to the fullest with recklessness and passion that could only be known to them. Body shot and keg stand and more extremities. Of course, nothing is without a consequence…or two.

Bursting into bathroom with hand over their spilling lips was a frequent sight in this place, with some unable to make it to their destination and emptying their stomach contents up on the random tile floor, most of the time a mere few feet away from the toilet.

The acidic vile content of her stomach chocked its way out of her throat while Emma, one of her friends, held her hair out of the way. Not lot of girls locked the cubicle door which meant some random girl bursting in to share the bowl and bonding over their common circumstance.

“Oh, my God!” Her friend shouted, “Someone, quickly, someone get her a water!”

“Someone take this girl home!” She heard one of her friend shout in the cubicle.

* * *

“Shit…” Her head was spinning and nausea threatened to boil back up again. Taking Es’ on top of cocktail of alcohol was not helping either which she admit was stupid because she knew the effect it had down to their molecules. At least she didn’t have her nose half buried in coke like others were. She wanted to get out of here. Too suffocating.

She pushed her way out of the place, staggering into a nearby park that she recognised but couldn’t name; her six inch heels were threatening to sprain her ankles – and permanently this time before toppling beside the large tree. Julia wasn’t sure what was so compelling about calling someone while under the influence but her fingers were already scrolling down, in search for a helpless victim and pressing calling button and onto her ear before her mind could compartmentalise her actions.

_“Hello?”_

“Why don’t you ever call me??” Her voice was a slurred mess, jumbles of grammars that didn’t really seemed to make any sense but at the time it did, “I am the onnee that alwaaayss has to text you first or call you first and that’s not how it supposed to be. Like, I’m the tiger, you are the mouse but you’re supposed to be the rat and I’m fuckin’ Cinderella, OK?! I am a freakin glass slipper! You know what? You’re boring, like I don’t even like you anymore and I know that I’m supposed to tell you this when I’m sober but I think this is the best time! Ok, you need to know this! You need to stop playing games, ok? I HATE it when we play games, except for Candy Crush and Angry Birds. Those are real games! Not the stupid ones you’re playing with me!”

_“Sweetie, this is your mother.”_

“Oh now you’re putting me to your mum!”

_“OK, first it was the roller coaster and then a unicorn now you’re drunk dialling your mum thinking I’m your ex?”_

“Are you really my mum?” The bold anger in her voice diminished considerably.

_“Yes, I carried you for 9 month before giving birth to you in a very painful manner Where the hell are you?”_

“I don’t know.” She laughed, “Can you come and pick me up?”

_“What do you see?”_

“I’m like in between five trees and grass.”

The vague description were a familiar one, the same park that Julia always ended up sprawled against the centre tree as she waited for her mother to drag her daughter’s semi-comatose body back to her bed, “ _I know where that is. I’m coming, stay there. Ok? And don’t even follow any strangers giving you candies._ ”

“Okay..”

She rested her head on the trunk, gasping when one of her hand coming to rest collapsed through the ground and it was only then she noted that the ground was dug up then covered like rough makeshift hidden ground trap.

Julia uncovered the twigs and leaves, revealing a huge hole with bottomless depth. Wait? She frowned, is that blue? Clouds? Is that…SKY?!

Julia squint her eyes, bending down to see the questionable bottom that bizarrely resembled a clear, dry sky with cotton clouds.

“Fuck…I must be really wasted.” Julia muttered, shaking her head with denial.

_Ring_

_Ring_

The sound of her phone vibrating in the other hand shifted her attention away and she heaved herself up to stand when the ground under her palm crumbled, wrenched her in like quick sand. There was a short burst of scream but the cry for help was quickly muted by the loud music.

“KYAAH!!”

One guy, looked over his shoulder, “Yo, bro, did ya heard something?”

His mate followed his line of gaze but saw nothing but an empty park, void of life, “Dude, you need help. Didn’t you like kept yourself awake last time for like a week to study before falling asleep at the start of your test? Since then, you’ve been acting weird, dude.”

“I swear I heard some chick screaming!” The guy explained, earning a worrying look from his friends.

“…..”

There was a slight tense silence in the group before the guy in question shouted, “I’M DRUNK! WHAT’S UP!”

“YEAHH!!!!” His mates gave him a encouraging slap on his shoulder before they gulped down more alcohol and the partying continued.

* * *

Julia kept screaming as she tumbles head over heels down the rabbit hole. She frantically grabs at the walls which were hung with exotic objects: paintings, ancient maps, cracked mirrors, demonic masks, etc. She pulled out books, jam jars, a crystal ball, a badger claw, a monkey’s hand and a human skull in her frantic effort to stop herself. And down she fell.

She looked up and saw the round bright circle of the rabbit hole and the night sky bright with neon lights above which grew smaller the further she plunged. Gradually, it grew darker as the day segued into night. And still she fell. Now she could see stars twinkling in the dark round circle of the hole as she plunged deeper and deeper beneath the earth’s surface. . and still she plunges…

Finally, after what seems like hours, the bottom becomes brighter and bluer. She was certain what she was seeing right now is a sky…

Now she fell through the air, free of gravity as Julia screamed at the sight of the ground becoming nearer and dangerously closer.

WHAM!

Afraid to open her eyes because she was certain she would end up seeing a gruesome image of her death and that the solid warmth beneath her was her blood seeping through the ground.

“Ugh..”

Something groaned….or someone.

 _Wait?!_ Julia’s eyes snapped open, the owner of the grunt conjuring into existence in the form of a small child. Dilated brown met green. The little child blinked several times in shock as he absorbed her sudden appearance before his cheeks slowly tinted red and Julia regarded him with a slack jaw.

_What is going on?!_

“What…?” The guy said in the most eloquent Received Pronunciation that she only ever heard from the Royal family, “W-What are you wearing? How did you get in here?”

Julia blinked once again before grinning back to him then pulled him into a tight embrace, “So cute! I’m Julia, what’s your name?”

“W-wait!” Surprised by the abrupt and inappropriate tactile approach, he pulled away forcibly and she found herself unceremoniously slumped on the ground albeit being high were an explanation for her general weakness.

“Who are you?” He quickly recovered and staggered back to create an appropriate distance between them.

“I’m Julia. What’s yours’?”

“Vincent Phantomhive.” He curtly replied, “How did you enter this premise?”

Julia looked around her surrounding, squinting at the glaring sunlight to the point her eyes were almost closed, “It’s not 49?” She asked, 49 being the nightclub name.

“49? I do not understand.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry! I must be in the wrong place.” Julia profusely apologised, dismissing the weird hallucination she had experienced earlier and searched for her phone that seemed to be missing from her hand or bag. “Ah, great, I’ve lost my phone, do you mind lending me yours so I can call my mum?”

The poor boy never looked so confused and frightened that Julia wondered whether she said anything horrible.

“Pardon?” Was his answer after a long pregnant pause.

“Can I please borrow your phone so I can call my mum?” Julia slowly enunciated her words, “I’m waiting for my mum to pick me up. Do you know where I am?”

He couldn’t understood anything she seemed to spew other than her desire to know her current whereabouts although she must have known for she was able to venture into deepest part of the property without getting caught, “Weston College.”

“Weston College? I’ve never heard of that school before.”

“Are you..alright?”

“I’m fine.” She gave him a large smile then reached forward to grab his hands, “Are you okay? You look really scared. Are you lost? Do you need help looking for your mum?”

She approached closer on fours and he noted her pupils were unusually dilated and his nose caught a whiff of distinct smell of alcohol and something strong and sickly sweet that possessed to her clothes and skin. Was she..drunk? And possibly under some sort of narcotic? He was aware smoking opium was a relatively popular and favourite recreation many from all classes enjoyed and that the best opium possessed the soft and dark, the smell and texture of hash or undercooked brownies with an odd fishy edge that seemed similar with the one that clung to her skin. That would best explain why she was speaking all sort of nonsensical phrases and soliciting indecorous intimacy but he couldn’t explain the absurd clothing and shoes she was wearing.

“I really need to meet up with my mum. Is there any bus or Uber I can take?” She kept on asking, “I have term paper I need to hand in for tomorrow and I have Christmas presents to shop for.”

“It’s not Christmas.” Far from it actually.

“Next week is Christmas.”

“The Christmas have passed, Miss.” He said, “It’s February.”

“No, it’s 19th December.” She said then added as afterthought, “2018.”

He shook his head, “It’s February 6th, 1867.”

Vincent studied as her face translated thousands of emotions morphing from confusion to suspicion to grinning, awareness in her eyes, “Ha! Nice try with the ‘when you take a short nap and you wake up in 2020’ meme. Seriously, I need to meet up with my mum soon and she hates waiting.”

He scowled, unable to contain his dissipating patience and disgust to this fallen woman and stood up from the grass, dusting off his clothes and attempted to walk away. He had enough with her antics, this part of the ground was a sacred place he escaped to whenever he wanted a time he could call his own without others and her less than stellar appearance only left a bitter taste in his tongue in what was associated with peace and calm and will never be again.

“Wait!” Her arm shot out to grab his wrist, shaking it away the moment he registered the stranger’s warmth on his skin. He hated being touched unless they were his mother or sister.

“Please! I’m lost and I really need to meet up with my mum and you’re joking around with me!” There was a tremble in her voice and if he turned around, he would see the slight wetness in her eyes.

He sighed, shoulders slumping, “I am not jesting. You are trespassing school property and today is February 6th, 1867, one in the afternoon.”

“B-but it’s 2018.” Julia stuttered and had she not already been kneeling, she would have toppled over from the sudden weakness of her knees, “You’re lying. I-it-it can’t be 1867. This is just hallucinations–– that must be it.”

She shook her head, rambling on her knowledge of the drug as if apprehension would wake her up from this ‘tripping episode’, “You don’t exist; this is all Methylenedioxymethamphetamine talking. It is mild and rare but it’s a serotonergic compound and agonist of the 5-HT1 and 5-HT2 families of serotonin receptors, as are the classic psychedelics. 5-HT agonism is associated with the experiential distortions found in hallucinogenic substances. However, this is only a weak agonism with MDMA, so the distortions tend to be mild; phosphenes, breathing visuals, and so forth. Higher doses and mixing with other substances tend to produce more intense hallucinations.”

Vincent frowned, some of the words he recognised as medical but most were incoherent and inchoate. Perhaps..Asylum patient? But how would he explain her falling out of the sky? That otherworldly crack that he heard earlier from above as though the heaven had been torn open? He regarded her with scrutiny of a scientist that made a new, profound discovery only he found it difficult to grasp this could ever be explained scientifically or medically.

“What was the last thing you have seen?”

She snapped out of her own little thought, eyes wet and threatening to spill, “I-I was in a park..a-and I saw a ground had been dug up and when I looked down to it, I saw a sky. This sky. I-I fell down the hole..” _Like some twisted verison of Alice in Wonderland._

He took a moment for her words to seep in before asking once again, “Do you have anything you can prove that you are..from the future?”

She jerked her head around, grabbing her black bag and shaking everything out of its content and onto the ground. Her pouch, phone charger, snacks, tissue, spare hair ties, few pain meds, snacks, headphone-her iPod. She quickly held up her iPod to him, sliding it unlock and showed him the touchscreen and images.

“I-is that enough?”

He took the bizarre contraptions, slick metal and impossibly feathery light in his hand and in it a clear, coloured photo of London he would not have recognised if not for the unchanged River Thames separating the land only connected by the bridge.

Vincent was loss for thought. Lost. Confused. Slightly scared. But he never showed it.

“You do not recognise my name.”

“Vincent?”

“Phantomhive.”

“The only famous family we keep up with in my time is Kardashians.”  

“I’ve not heard of such family.” Vincent frowned, skimming his mind for anyone with the mentioned last name in society but came up with nothing.

“They are not famous yet.” _I don’t even know if that last name even exists right now._ “So you believe me now?”

“Yes.” He returned her the small, thin rectangular object, watching as she put it back into her bag with other remaining belongings. _Does that mean my family has ceased to exist by her time?_

“..Can you help me then?” She pleaded, “I don’t have any place to go. Do you know any place I could stay? J-just until I figure out what’s happening?”

He looked askance at her entreat but said after a long moment, “I can find you an accommodation. But for now, I know a place you can hide until I figure out how to sneak you out of here. If you get caught, do not mention my name.”

Her face became animated, slugged shoulders pulling back straight and becoming tall while frantically nodding as though he would rescind the offer if she hesitated, “Thank you, thank you. You won't regret it. And even if I do get caught, which I hardly doubt, I'll never mention your name or anything connected to you. My mouth is-” He wasn’t sure how he could describe it but it was some sort high pitched, guttural barking that made him frown in utter confusion.

“Seals. My lips are seals.” She elaborated pointedly, giving him a look that she found him exasperated that he didn’t understand something that was obvious. A sharp irritation thrilled in him, desiring to voice that her fate lay entirely in his hand and it wasn’t the best time for her to make any sharp remarks.

“Come.” He tersely said, repressing the biting retort tingling at the edge of his tongue and offering his hand as support. She must have taken it as other meaning, giving him a firm handshake like men would after the sealing of satisfied business dealing and hobbled to a standing with the push of her free hand.

She was taller than him by many inches, his head barely reaching her chest in their flagrant déshabille. The material was dark and designed in a way it left little to imagination of her body that it was no different from being naked. He felt his cheeks grew slightly hot and instead offered him her jacket in silent plea to cover herself up. Thankfully, she did without contest although it was little too small and short. She unzipped her heeled boots, becoming slightly shorter but made no difference to their difference and followed him, hand gripping her boots. 

About ten minutes later or maybe twenty she didn’t really keep count because time either slowed or quicken under the influence, they arrived at a barn situated in the isolated part of the school property and hardly visited, an ideal place for her to abide her time and he espied her expression of awe and excitement as her eyes took in the place.

“My dad’s family has an exact farm like this back in America and I haven’t been there since I was a kid..” She ran toward the ladder connecting to the open loft, stacks of hays lined in rows on the corner but her excitement was cut short by the rumbling of her stomach. “Do you think you can get me some food and water?”

A flash of indignation flicked in his gaze, disappearing as fast as it appeared that she almost missed it although his lips were thinner and pursed so she quickly interjected with a generous offer, “I’ll give you candy.”

“I detest sweet things.”

New information. She smirked, “But it’s _not_ just a candy, it’s twentieth-first century candy.” His ears perked up with interest, “So here’s the deal, you bring me food and lots of water, I’ll give you a candy you’ve never even knew existed. Or tasted”

He considered her facetiously then, “Fine. I accept your conditions. I’ll be back.”

She waved him goodbye, “Don’t take your time!”

He bridled, lips bared back slightly, revealing soupçon of his white, straight teeth like a riled animal and probably would have growled if he wasn’t so controlled for his age. Vincent exited the barn, closing the door loudly than necessary as Julia rested her head on one of haystack, staring at the floating cloud through the skylight. Her body drowned back to Earth.

* * *

By the time Vincent arrived with a basket of food and water, her lips were chapped and dry, tongue parched and painfully rubbing against the roof of her mouth like rough sandpaper and her body slightly heated and beads of salty sweats were forming on the surface of skin.

“I thought you’d abandoned me to a shitty death.” She muttered as she climbed down, the world turning.

The edge of his lips twitched at her crass choice of word but made no mention of it. Good. This wasn’t the best time to be told off by some brat about her vocabulary.

“It was difficult to smuggle food without anyone seeing me.” Not to mention he was absolutely late for his class.

Her hands frantically reached for water inside the basket only for it to disappear behind him, “I’ve done my part of the deal, now you do yours’.”

Julia grinned at the kid’s pragmatism, nodding in approval, “Fine, fine,” reaching into her bag she handed him the packet of candy to him and just as his fingers scraped its package, she swiped it away, “Middle ground shall we?”

His lip twitched into a crook smile before holding up the basket mid-air between them. Their hands grabbed onto their respective items and let the other one go.

“Now, everyone’s happy.” Julia shrugged her shoulder before gulping down the water without bothering to pour it to a dainty cup and biting a large chunk of bread, ignoring the knife on the bottom.

“Your table manner is non-existent.” He commented dryly.

Julia dismissed him with a shrug, “I’m starving.” Her voice was muffled with bread in her mouth and his brow asymmetrically rose, conveying his (ignored) disgust.

He sighed; sitting down on the ground as he watched her gulp down the food and water that reminded him of a dog burying his face in its food bowl after being starved for days and decided reading the candy package was a much more delightful interest.

“What is this candy?” He finally asked her, holding it up after reading the bizarre wordings written on it.

_Pop rocks_

“Pop rocks, it’s a candy that basically explodes in your mouth.”

“Explode?” He repeated and doubting the safety of such food that would detonate inside one’s mouth, “Is it not dangerous?”

“No, it’s absolutely safe.” She giggled, “Look I’ll show you.” Ripping the corner of the package and taking the crystal shaped candy into her mouth, few seconds later he heard a quiet but dull ‘pop’, her expression unchanging which meant it was not a painful ordeal.

He studied them for a moment before carefully popping it in his mouth. Vincent jumped a little when the candy began to dissolve in his mouth in almost acid-like manner, pop resounding in his head. There was certain excitement in his face as he put another into his tongue.

“Good right?”

“Amazing.” He said, “Do you have more?”

“I do.” She said, “But I’ll give you more later. Too many sweets will give you cavities.”

“Do not patronise me.”

Julia smiled, “I’m not. I’m saving some for myself later.”

“Ah.”

“So…uh how was your day?” Julia suddenly asked, desperately wishing to start a new subject that wasn’t as awkward but the clichéd ‘how was your day?’ wasn’t any better.

“My day?” He clarified in pleasant surprise, “You wish to know about my day?”

“I don’t really have anywhere else to go and I don’t even know where my phone went so..” Julia said the elaborated as his expression of confusion deepened, “Phone, it’s a device where you type series of number that you know belongs to someone like your mum and you can hear their voice and speak to them in live time.”

He nodded, “I believe I’m aware of such conception.”

“Oh good.”

“I have missed classes because of you. And Weizsäcker is irritating as usual.”

“Weiz-sac-ker?” She repeated although the pronunciation was horribly wrong. “Is that his first name?”

“Weizsäcker. It is against the rule to refer each other by our first names but not always upheld.”

“..Hm, that’s a weird rule.” She muttered, “I’m sorry for making you miss your class, y-you won’t get in trouble right?”

“The professors are understanding.” When it came to him.

“Which classes are you taking?”

“Economics, Latin, Greek, mathematics, art, music, philosophy, history, geography, religious studies, and science. The usual.” He answered until Julia’s jaw was hanging down to her chin by the end of the list.

“How old are you?”

“Thirteen. I shall be fourteen soon.”

“T-they are making thirteen year olds take Latin and Greek? Those dead languages? What so you guys can learn to summon a demon or something?”

“Demons do not exist.”

“People would beg to differ. I thought you’d be religious.”

“They have yet to ask for my belief unlike you.”

“Well..do you enjoy it? Is it something you chose to pursue?”

“Our decisions do not belong to us.” He revealed with detachment, “Our choice affects our family that could have detrimental effect on our standings. Many students here are heir of their family after all…”

“So?” Julia deadpanned, “Your guys wealth is not yours’ anyway, beside you should live the way you want, and lives are too short to study.”

He frowned, puzzled look appearing on his young baby face, “It is ours’. We are to inherit them as soon as we are of age. We were born for this purpose.”

“I don’t think God went ‘oh Vincent, I choose you to bear the greatness’ and made you born into your family. Babies are created random. You’re just a lucky bunch.”

“It is our birth right.” He clarified but it was clear he was losing the argument.

“Just because you have money in your hand doesn’t mean it’s yours’” Julia preached, “Wealthy or good-looking are all given by your parents. They're not earned by yourself so it’s not something I’d consider to be proud of. Entertain me on this; what achievements you’ve made can you say with confidence wasn’t because of your last name?”

“My grades are exceptional.” He studied hard, not to embarrass his mother or himself.

“And who provided that education.”

His lips thinned in anger, “I shall not tolerate your insults any longer.”

“If you think this is an insult, then maybe I’m right.” She replied, shaking head, “Okay, enough of philosophical matters, let’s move on. I wasn’t intentionally trying to make you angry. Just wanted to know if there’s something you actually enjoy.”

“Are you educated?” His question caught her off guard and realised that education in this era was something only a rich could afford. Like him.

“Most of the people are in my world.”

“Even commoners?” Vincent asked.

“Yes. Unless you’re in impoverished country, even the most poorest would have some sort of education.” Julia sighed and took out the packet of cigarette, putting the roll in her lip, she searched for her lighter.

“Uh, you don’t mind if I smoke right? I mean kids in this era smoked didn’t they?”

“Men do. Women don’t.”

Ignoring the obviously deliberate phrased sentence, she patted down her clothes, attempting to feel for a small lighter she may have misplaced.

“Looking for this?” She turned to see the lighter in the kid’s hand.

“Light it up for me.” Julia neared him until their face was levelled and she could see the proximity was an uncomfortable practise for him but he made no mention, instead lit the fire with his thumb. The smoke oozed from the end of her roll and she took them between her index and middle and exhaled the deadly smoke from her lip.

“So..where am I supposed to wash.”

“The only washing facilities are in our dorms and servants quarters; you’d most likely would be caught trying to use either of them.”

“Is there a pond then?”

“There is.”

“There is a river nearby the Swan gazebo but it is a restricted area.” Said Vincent in a weary tone, “Why?”

Julia ignored his question, “Will I get caught if I go at night?”

“If you are good at being careful.”

 


	2. Ready, Set, Scandal

 

When Julia Hemsworth, having travelled few hundred years back in time, woke up from her slumber, she was having the worst time of her life –– the crash-hangover.

Her skull felt like some girl stabbed her head with her heel, depressed and she was hungry. And thirsty. So so hungry and thirsty. The moment she opened her eyes, she was met with an instant, splitting pain through her brain. She blinked hard, and tried to focus her eyes. A familiar wave of total desolation washed over her. ‘What the hell? How much did I drink last night? Where did this hangover come from?’ was the thoughts.

She slowly sat up, staring into blank space; jaw wide, lipstick smeared around her mouth and her half lidded eyes still cloudy with sleep was smudged messily black as if she had cried thousand tears night before. Even without the mirror, she knew she looked like a racoon in a water park.

Julia numbly looked down, relief that she was at least dressed and not in some weird combination of poncho and cowboy hat like last time.

Flashes of last night came back to her. Nothing coherent, just fragments. Then Julia realised where she was and the chaotic mixture of hangover and crash stirred her emotions, longing to see her parent and friends again. That she wished the place she woke up to was her room in her bed and her mum having a go at her for living fast and risking premature (and probably unnecessary painful) death.

But there’s only dead silent and the roughness of her ‘bed’ and knew that this wasn’t some hallucination she experienced.

“…That can’t be true right…I can’t have travelled back in past. No way in hell…” Her nail scratched on the side of her finger, tearing out the protruding skin. She always picked at her skin whenever overwhelming stress and nervousness got the best of her.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the shooting call of nature. Her problem right now was the toilet. There was no nearby toilet and how was she supposed to go or deal with her monthly friend. Hopefully, it doesn’t come to digging holes in the ground…which meant it will.

She heard a latch to the shed shackle with struggle and realised someone was trying to come in. At least she still had enough common sense to lock the door before blacking out.

“Please, open the door.” A familiar voice drawled.

Julia still dazed and hung over, crawling to the edge where the wood ladder rested against only to ungratefully tumble down to the ground with a loud ‘oomph!’ for anyone outside to hear.

The silence was thick with trepidation in the air.

Then trains of imprecate epithet seems to explode from the seemingly ordinary barn that housed such formidable alien of a woman. Vincent had to stop himself flinching from some of the words she doled out, carving out unpleasant imaginations in his mind. How a human mind could conceive that was beyond imagination.

There was another silence, dread stirring in his chest as he impatiently waited for the door to be opened. The barn door creaked open, slowly and apprehensively, and Vincent swore he heard growling and saw her eyes glint predatorily with red to his hand that held basket of food.

The sunlight managed to obtrude upon her and the darkness of the barn and she hissed from the light as if it burned her and cowered deeper into the darkness with whimper. Like Dracula.

As he stared down at the woman before him, hunched down so that his height could be used as a shield against the rays, he nudged the barn door wider with his foot to let the whole light in, vanishing whatever little cover she had.

“IT BURNS!” She hissed and brought up intertwined arms defensively. For a moment, he expected her to start smoking and engulfed in flames.

“I do not see you melting.” He commented stoically.

“You little brat!”

Ignoring her jabs and gently setting down the basket onto the floor, he made a mistake of glancing up and had he been any lesser of a person that he is, he would have screamed and run away without daring to look back at the haunting image of horror.

His image of his mother was impeccable, beautiful and elegant in whatever situation she may be in even with the hard edge of steels in her eyes that others may point as too masculine and aggressive and his other interactions with the fairer sexes had left upon him the impression that females was expected to be as radiant as an angel, as dainty as a fairy - she was a picture on the wall, a statue in a temple..

Although he wasn’t sure what to call this picture in front of him.

She knew exactly what he was thinking because she responded with biting barb, “Yeah, yeah I look like shit but trust me, all girls in the world wakes up with this face.”

 When he said nothing further, she cocked her head, growling, “Don’t you have school?”

“I do.” He would not lie.

“Go away.” She needed a smoke.

A marring frown appeared in his otherwise flawless face and defiantly lifting her heavy head, eyes dazed but still ferocious, “Well? Wanna demonstrate why I got tackled to the ground and arrested one time?”

The promise of violence was clear and Vincent didn’t doubt she was bantering, from what he had seen from the night before, forbearance didn’t seemed to be one of her better features and with her current appearance, edge of nervousness sat in and refusing to show such mien, he stood up to leave. Stomping his feet, he exited the barn with one glance over his shoulder much to his irritation no move to even acknowledge his departure was made, closing the door harder than necessary.

Halfway down the track as his friends greeted him after short but noticeable absent, he was coming to severely regret offering his aid to such ungrateful woman who expected him to yield and submit to her childish whims. Forget that she supposedly came from the future with her modern technology or sweets; he did not have the luxury to be idling.

“Vincent, are you ill?” Charlie, a fellow classmate and the second son to Viscount Miller asked, “Your countenance look quite dark…has something happened?”

Quickly recovering and replacing the annoyed look with a charming smile, he shook his head, “No, I am quite alright. Shall we?”

Charlie nodded, following him into the class.

* * *

Julia sighed as she examined the blanket covered basket containing cutleries, napkins, scones, few egg mayo and watercress rolls, clotted cream, jam, and water.

She was having a nice debate in denying that the Vincent boy she met was just a wonderful hallucination concocted by the lovely Es’ and shots she took last night until she met the said boy, sober, and realised last night little journey was very true. Her cheeks were red and had nice handprints with numerous attempts to slap herself awake. It would be great to the sanity of her mind to have a peaceful, quiet moment to herself but first, toilet.

Julia was glad to always have with her a mini packet of tissue and after she was done, she stood up from the bush, scanning her environment one more time.

“Shit, what am I gonna do?” She asked as if somehow someone would give her an answer. Looking at the sky, hoping otherworldly voice and heavenly light would shine on her to guide her to the path. Nothing came. Then faces of her parent and friends flashed before her, heart clenching tightly. In the whirl of panic, tears burst out and she couldn’t hold in the chocked sobs as she buried her head in her arms. She prayed this was just a dream that she just couldn’t find her way out. Praying that this was just some well-planned prank pulled by her friends or stuck in a nightmare brought on by drug induced coma.

She kept closing and opening her eyes, hoping the images would change. Closing her eyes again, she counted till a hundred. Then two hundred. Then a thousand. Ten prays. Hundred prays. Promises that she would never drink or drug again. She would be the perfect daughter and friend and student and positively contributing members of society and a perfect wife and mother. _Just this one time, let this be one sick joke._

By the time she had the courage to look up, her back and bottom were aching from prolong crouched position. Julia opened her eyes again. Nothing has changed.

 _It must be true_ , she inwardly said, _I must have really travelled back in time. Shit. Fuck. Great._

“God..no more drinking and travelling in the past.” She told herself, clutching her aching but slowly dulling skull. Then she turned her attention to the basket. Removing the covering, she greedily drank the water before shoving the rolls down her throat. Julia chocked on a bread piece, coughing but the speed of her hands putting the food in her mouth was not slowed.

Full stomach can do wonder to a person’s mood. It was being hugged from inside. It was ingestion Advil. A full stomach made her feel like she could take the world by storm, ace her test, clear her skin, snatch wigs and solve problems.

 _But first, I need to wash_ , Julia thought. Fast. Just like her to drown all the water he got for her without thinking to save it for later. She’ll probably be the first to die if she and others get stranded in an island.

Julia could hear the murmurs of students hurrying to make it for their morning mass and lessons fading into distance and made sure to wait a good ten minutes after any noise ceased to expose her hiding place. Carefully unlocking the hatch, she tepidly poked out her head, scanning the area as far as her eyes could rotate and hear. When satisfied, she tip toed out of the barn to find any cover so she could do her business.

The place was empty and devoid of any presence. Thank God kids in this time were more serious about their education then most of students in her world!  She was on constant vigilance for any sound that might tip her off for any impending people near or far.

Julia also thanked that school had more than one fountain – probably for the purpose of showing off to the visitors how they can afford to splash out their cash on useless decorations – she cupped the water in her palms and washed away her ruined make up onto now murky fountain water. Well, the maintenance workers will have quite a trouble having to explain to the dean of the school why one of their fountain waters were dyed dirty black and red.

If there was one thing she hated about grand buildings like this was it was impossible to find your ways. It was so open and public and any small nooks and crannies were only obvious to those intimate with the layout. Of course private schools had to show off.

The whole school was like a maze and she sure as hell didn’t see any map leaflets lying around but she knew private schools usually separated the dormitory and education sectors. Crouching like a cat, she saw in one window coterie of students gathered in a classroom as they attentively listened to their professor talk about something Julia would find boring. And wouldn’t understand.

Peeking through the window, she scanned the young faces. So this is what rulers of this country looked like. Peering inside more sharply, a boy by the window seat stood up, reading something out from his textbook. The familiar beauty mark under his left eye and that ‘body of a child but mind of an adult’ attitude oozing out of his very being was undoubtedly Vincent Phantomhive.

Assertive and self-righteous.

She wished she had that much confidence in herself. Something disturbed him and his unwavering gaze flashed to the side, to the hedge and little lower where their eyes met. She wasn’t supposed to be here. She ducked down, camouflaging back into the thick shrub and went her ways.

Smooth Latin lilt halted in its track, an incomplete song that left an impression of an unpleasant execution. Other classmates bristled. This had never happened before. He excelled at Latin just as he did in other subjects as expected of Phantomhive heir.

“A-a-“ He choked out in shock, eyes frozen on the glass where those eyes were.

“Mr Phantomhive, are you alright?” His professor asked, noticing the unusual behaviour in his star pupil. Alexis looked up at Vincent worriedly. He was acting very odd since yesterday, missing class and arriving late back to dorm although he did say he was in library all day, Alexis knew it was a lie.

“N-no, professor. I apologise.” His head tilted low in embarrassment, taking a deep breath and resuming its course.

* * *

She found where the laundry were being dried, first very tempted to steal a maid’s clothes but she would have lot of explaining to do other servants who would without a doubt notice ‘new’ recruit. Julia suspected servants had close ties with each other and generally knew each and every one compared to mingling as one of thousand students.

So Julia decided on some poor student’s clothes who will find he is missing his uniform or he might have a fair few that he won’t even notice its missing at all.

She tied her hair up in messy bun to hide the length and tucked them up her top hat, slipped into the trouser and white shirt before putting the tail coat on. People always said she looked boyish enough for pass for a boy. Julia hid out until she heard a bell and all students came out running out of the building for break. She quickly slipped out of the dark and merged with them quietly. Although it was quite successful, her darker skin tone stuck out like sore thumb.

Lost in thoughts, her feet kept walking and somehow strayed from others, stepping onto the grass. The once lively chatters around her knifed silent and collective gasps could be heard. Julia felt all eyes on her. She frowned, looking around and wondering why they were looking as if she just committed grave crime and announced it to the whole world.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” A haughty voice questioned in sharp tone.

Julia turned to see a…boy? While he was undoubtedly young and immature, his height was more or less equal with hers’ five foot six and while she could hear that RP accent, there was an underlining of German accent in it as well.

“Um…” She started awkwardly, turning around to face him and off the grass, “I’m new…?”

He raised a brow, staring down at her shoe, “And no one told you of the rules…?”

“I didn’t listen…?” She peeped, scratching the back of her head.

“What year are you in?” He demanded.

“First year…” She answered quietly.

“I have never seen you before.”

Shit…who knew he was in first year too. Julia cursed inwardly, she only chose first year because Vincent was in first year as well.

"I only transferred today....sir?"

He narrowed his eyes, studying her from bottoms up to top and she couldn’t help but shrink her body as tiny ball as she could under his scrutinising gaze.

“Who are you?” He demanded in authoritative tone.

“I'm... Sebastian.” She cleared her throat to pitch her voice deeper and masculine and attempting the posh accent albeit failing miserably, “Sebastian Rolls-Royce.” Thank god she watched St. Trinian’s, “I’m friends of Wills and Harry. You know Wills and Harry. Course you do. Great guys. Yeah, great guys. Top lads. Top, top.”

He stares at her, scrutinising. There was an awkward silent between them until Julia said, “…I ski.”

_Ring_

_Ring_

Julia sighed in relief inside, saved by the bell! Just like in the movie.

“Bugger, I got double Economics.” He moved to run back to the class but not before giving her a warning glare, “But we’ll resume it. Later.”

Well, she would have been long gone by then.

Julia felt someone tug her arm. It was Vincent. Very angry looking Vincent.

“What are you doing?!” He hissed, calm façade slipping away, “And how did you get this?!” He grabbed the sleeves of the tail coat.

Without waiting for her answer, Vincent dragged her into a small secluded place that she didn’t realise a building as large as the school could have, “Don’t you have any lessons to go to? Like double economics?” She asked, attempting to lighten the mood.

Lesson was last thing on his mind. The only reason he was able to find her amongst hundreds of others was her noticeable darker skin tone and that mischievous glint in her eyes that was unrestrained by the chains of his society’s rules. It was that freedom in her eyes. That wild, fierceness like an untamed horse. She reeked of it.

“You could have been caught!” Vincent retorted, “If you were––“

“I-I just needed to get out.” She wasn’t good at expressing herself without swearing which only downplayed her true feelings of something, like how she felt like drowning into a deep, unending abyss crushed by ocean pressures, not being able to breathe or see or hear. That she wanted to confirm there was a world outside her small barn, a small room the voice in her head told it wasn’t real and she needed to see. See that this was the reality. That she was in the past. Stuck.

“You could––”

“Don’t worry,” She intervened with a serious expression he never thought capable to someone so careless like her, “I won’t even mention your name or anything that could implicate you. I keep my promise. What happens afterwards will be my problem. Not yours’. I only asked for you to help me, not be my guardian.”

Vincent closed his mouth, any replies he was about to make disappearing into thin air.

“Look, I’m sorry for being reckless but I-I just needed to confirm..that I’m actually in the past.” She explained, voice substantially more quiet and feeble.

“As long as you receive my help, you are my responsibility.” He confirmed.

There was an edge of gentleness in her smile aimed at him, “Thanks but I’m my own responsibility. No one else’s’.” He looked quite caught off guard, “Now don’t you have any double economics you need to get to?”

It’s as if he remembered something he’d have long forgotten, quickly gathering his bag, “Take refuge and keep yourself hidden. You may roam free within reasons and do not get caught. I shall bring dinner later.”

Julia waved him goodbye, “Coolness, see ya.”

“Oh,” He stopped in his track, “That person you’ve met is Weizsäcker.”

She tilted her head puzzled; she heard that name in passing then her eyes widened, realising.

“You were right.” Julia said.

“I am right no many things.” He smirked. “Be more specific.”

“Weizsäcker.” She still pronounced it wrong, but it didn’t matter, “He is annoying.”

For once, he agreed.

* * *

Julia folded the uniform into neat form, putting them on the higher haystack as she watched the sun set from the window upstairs. The scenery was beautiful, the type you could fall asleep to and expect to dream wonderful things. It made her happy, even if it was for a brief moment.

She heard the door rattle and Julia climbed down the ladder to open the lock as Vincent’s arm came into view. He held out the basket as if expecting her to take them.

“Are you coming in or not?”

Vincent shook his head although it was unseen, “I can’t. I need to be in the dormitory tonight.”

Julia shrugged, although a company would have been nice, “That’s fine with me. Have fun. Night!” With a grin, she closed the door and locked it.

He nodded a goodnight in return and walked away.

* * *

When Vincent came back, he was hoarded with questions from his classmates who noticed his brief absence. Students were not supposed to roam school at night unless they require extra attention with the professor regarding educational subjects or if, fortunate, attended the midnight tea party with the headmaster.

“I had a late study session in the library.” He told them, appeasing them of their worries.

“Are you sure you are not ill?” Alexis asked and he shook his head in confirmation.

The students took a seat in their House tables, footmen serving their starters and drinks. He understood why she had done so to risk being caught. Freedom. Deprivation could be more painful than privation. She must have felt like a bird clipped of its wings and put in the cage. It may still sing its sweet songs but its heart will be empty.

“Sir,” Vincent heard a familiar voice asked, “Do we have a boy called Sebastian Rolls-Royce?”

Vincent could feel his eyes widening, jerking his head toward to see Weizsäcker and the professor confirming ‘no’ leaving the German noble with suspicions in his narrowed eyes.

A problem.

* * *

Night has fallen and Julia finished her quick bath in the river. What she wouldn’t give for a shampoo and conditioner. Her hair was becoming little greasy even with thorough washing and she knew it was the effect of withdrawing from frequent use of chemical that stripped away the hair’s natural oil. Although it may take some time for her hair to get used to go without the care product, Julia liked that oil stripped sensation. She felt clean even if it wasn’t good for her hair.

She stared down at her university hoodie and leggings in grimace, she’s gonna have to get some new clothes or else her clothes will start smelling like cheese left out in the sun for too long even with strict hygiene routin.

For now, she’s going to have to recycle her clothes with the ones she wore yesterday untill she could get some more from wherever. She sighed blissfully as she squeezed her hair of excess water while reaching her new home.

There was no need for artificial lights like back in her time because moonlight gently shone into the barn and created silvery luminary effect that had a dreamy vibe, inducing that fuzzy sleepiness to those who saw its magical light.

As she climbed up the ladder and sat on her makeshift bed consisted of hays and stack for pillows, she stared into the large moon. Feeling of reminiscence slowing rolling onto the shore like a gentle wave that was slowly but surely will build into a tsunami and bring along with it, pain tenfold than now.

_I miss you mum. Dad._

* * *

**A/N:**

**Did you guys like it? I know the chapter was quite short (only 5000-ish words than my usual 6000-8000 words but I’ll try to make it longer next chapter!) Tell me your thoughts in the review!!**

 


	3. Home, a place far away.

 

When Julia woke from her messy prone positioned sleep, she thought she heard knocks.

 _It’s probably that kid,_ she thought sleepily, it was so weird he would deliver her food quite early but then again, private schools probably started early. Or maybe modern schools generally started later.

When she opened the door, eyes heavily dropping, she saw the familiar basket only it was laid on the floor and no Vincent at sight. _He must be busy,_ she deduced. But a boy that young shouldn’t even be up at this early hour for education or even be half as serious about education as him! Although she should take her education more serious seeing she got H2O and H2O2 confused in her last exam when it was primary school levelled chemistry.

Julia quickly took the food in, closing the door behind her. The deliciously warm aroma of recently cooked food elicited the loud rumbling of her stomach.  But for now, even if she was hungry, sleep seemed like a heavenly option and so fell back to sleep once more.

* * *

“Here you go young master, enjoy your food.” The cooker handed Vincent the basket with a smile. It wasn’t odd for a student to request additional food in between the meals nor was it his concern why he required them. But even so, he should find an alternate option seeing his requests will only increase.

“Thank you.” He nodded, taking the basket.

Vincent walked out of the kitchen, having finally familiarised himself for the first time to discover its eluding location. He was sure he would have never knew their existence if it weren’t for the very woman who was probably waiting for the food to be served. _Like some Queen_ , he thought with grimace. He was still having difficulty making sense of the possibility of time travelling and there were so few books on the subject, all coming to the same conclusion that it was an absolutely impossible concept that could never be achieved. He wondered what those scholars would say if he introduced her – the very existence that should not exist. And even if it did, dead and disintegrated into tiny particles of ashes.

Now that it was break time, the front court was full of resting students who would surely notice him carrying a basket full of food with no plausible reasons. But Vincent knew passages he was sure would be deserted of other students since it was quite unknown. He had discovered it when he was searching for a place when he wanted to be alone and now his sanctuary was being used for such offensive purpose.

Vincent was about to drop the basket off in front of the barn when it opened as if she was expecting him. He was surprised when she greeted him with a big grin as if glad to see him.

“You’re not gonna come in, are you?” It was more of a statement.

He shook his head, “I cannot today.”

She made a disappointed face, “Aww..I really needed someone to talk to.” Then she shrugged, “Well, you can’t have ‘em all in life I guess.” She said, though it was more a self-talk.

Then she clicked her finger as if she remembered something and stuck her hand into a pocket in those oversized, shapeless burgundy shirt printed with large, curved capital letters ‘IMPERIAL COLLEGE LONDON’ and handed him a colourful package he hoped was one of her modern sweets. Vincent found himself to have more questions than answers whenever he saw her.

He looked up as she articulated, “It’s called Jaffa Cakes. Try it, it’s really yummy and orangey. Good to eat them when you’re tired.”

“Thank you.” He said, “And I apologise for yesterday. It was unbefitting of me.”

“Don’t worry about it.” She quickly said in attempt to ease the situation. She dealt with worse and she herself could be quite temperamental and she didn’t consider yesterday’s altercation to be something to apologise for.

“But—“

“Look you weren’t the first person to get angry and you won’t be the last.” Julia consoled, “If I were you and you did what I did, I would get angry too so don’t worry. I’m fine and you shouldn’t feel guilty or anything like that. Hey, I don’t hold grudges. Well, most of the time; you’re lucky.”

His lips slightly trembled as if on precipice of speech and before he could force the apology on her, she gently twirled him back to the direction of the school, ruffling his perfectly coifed hair, “Go back to your lesson, have fun and I’ll see you whenever you’re free.”

Vincent numbly walked toward the direction she pushed him to, finally getting his head to look back and announce, “I shall come back next week as I must leave this premise for the weekend.”

Julia only waved and made sure to watch the kid disappear like a worried mother sending away her child.

* * *

“...verba ita sunt intelligenda ut res magis valeat quam pereat **(1)** …”

Noise strangled into deafness and he found himself staring out of the window where certain path would take him to the barn. Just few days ago, his days were peaceful albeit mundane and he wasn’t quite sure whether he preferred it then or now.

“-hive!”

He sighed.

“Mr Phan-“

_To dress up as a man…_

“-Hive!”

_…scandalous._

 “OI MOLE!”

Vincent jumped in his seat, eyes wretched from the window to notice all eyes in the room were on him and one very crossed looking professor.

“Mr Phantomhive how many times must I have to scream your name?!”

“Perhaps the mole is losing his touch.” Diedrich Weizsäcker excoriated sarcastically.

Vincent narrowed his eyes irritatingly, was it just him or did Weizsäcker and that woman shared some horribly galling features.

“Mr Weizsäcker!” The professor chided disapprovingly, “We have no need for your unnecessary comment.”

“Hmph!”

“I apologise, professor.” Vincent managed to bit out in calming tone.

The professor’s stern countenance softened as it was directed toward his prize pupil, “Mr Phantomhive, are you quite alright?”

“I’m fine, Sir.” He finalised, ignoring the disbelief look in their eyes.

* * *

Every weekends, many of the nobles’ sons attending the college left for their family home to return on Monday morning or late Sunday depending on the distance, although those whose manor was quite far remained in their nearby town house therefore rendering the early Sunday departure unnecessary. Those whose main residences were situated in another country would stay behind with the professors, only to return during longer holidays.

Small suitcases in hand, Vincent left his dormitory and headed for the front gate where his carriage awaited along with the other students’. The young heir found himself glancing back, steps heavy with worry of leaving the woman alone. Not of leaving a vulnerable woman behind, but from the trouble she seems to have natural affiliation for. It would be a surprise if the building remained standing, unscathed on Monday after two whole days alone with her and no one to rein her wild instincts.

With brief goodbyes, all his peers aboard their respective carriages with greetings from their butlers and trotted away.

“Young master,” Vincent turned to the source of the familiar voice.

“Morning, Tanaka.” Vincent nodded in acknowledgement and handed him the bag.

“How is school, young master?” He asked attentively, guiding him to where the Phantomhive carriage waits.

“It was..pleasant,” He intoned then his tone slightly faltered, “Although I feel very hesitant to leave.”

Tanaka raised a brow in interest, “Oh? Why so, sir? You have always been no more than happier to return to the townhouse.”

Vincent propped his chin on his hand, watching the fading building, subtly blending with green, “Just…I have left something, I’m quite afraid, unpredictable in its nature.”

Tanaka chuckled, “Perhaps that unpredictability may still know its bounds.”

“Hm…” Vincent shrugged, “Let’s pray it does.”

* * *

Sitting and doing nothing won’t magically have the answer written out in front of her. She wished she had the luxury of Internet so that she could Google ‘time travelling, how to go back to present if you travel back in time’. She didn’t really think there was any information on how to actually going back to present. After all, there wasn’t any proof of the possibility of time-travelling. She sighed, deciding to lie back down and stare at rafters and count how many scratches there were, chewing on a thin hay branch like you’d see in cowboy movies that’d have one sticking out in the corner of their mouth like some fashion trend. It tasted like dried, mild grass.

Ten minute of staring into nothingness, she decided to clean the barn. Her mum would probably throw a party after seeing her clean something in her lifetime.

 _Maybe if I go back to where I fell in, I can maybe fly out?_ She thought. As idiotic and ridiculous as it sounded, there was a shard of hope she fervently wanted to believe to be true.

Dropping the haystack she was currently moving to her makeshift bed and retrieving the stolen school uniform, she headed out to the area. Lowering her head, the top hat a cover for most of her face and greeting the passing professors with short ‘Good afternoon, sir’, she shouted at her brain for forgetting the directions.

 _Why the building have to be so big!_ She cursed inwardly, only one thing on her mind. It took her several run around of the school to find the place where everything started. Craning her neck, she stared at the blue and white sky.

 _Maybe the portal will open?_ She wondered. How she was still alive without dying from falling down such height was a mystery to her. She waited for a good five minutes and her neck was aching from looking up.

There must be a reason why she was sent here. Or was it just a cruel joke from the fate? She wished with all her heart that this was what would trigger something––anything. There was no plan B. No plan C. Julia sunk on the floor, staring at the majestic building laid in front of her. Maybe if she should have listened to Liz and stayed with her to study instead, maybe she should have just stayed in her dorm, maybe she shouldn’t have drank Adios Motherfucker and six shots of jager bombs, maybe she shouldn’t have taken Es, maybe she should have just gone home when her friends warned her.

She had many regrets in her life but this was by far the biggest regret. Now she was paying the price.

* * *

“Vincent,” His mother was a beautiful woman, with ocean eyes and light hair, elegantly stepping down the grand staircase followed closely by his younger sister, Francis, in her fencing gears suggesting she had been practising. A more athletic of the pair and the strongest. If she were not in her fight garb, she wore her riding trousers, finding more excuse to avoid wearing corsets or dress. He saw a spark of time travelling woman in her and hoped they would not meet for he did not know what would ensue, like the unpredictable reaction of two powerful elements.

While his mother, coifed in exotic grandeur of all money could buy and charmingly presented in a way deserving of her ‘Empress of fashion’ title given by her peers. She kindly welcomed her son with a warm hug and kiss which he returned with equal affection. The fact she was in one of her grand dresses meant there was no cases.

A sharp and painful sensation hit his shoulder; a long, thin foil. The sword moved too fast for his eyes to discern its target and a triumph smile curved her thinner lips, “Vincey, welcome back. Now, get in your fencing gear and let’s battle!”

“Now, now,” His mother stepped in defense of her poor, bullied son, “Francis, let him settle first.”

Touching his cheek gently, she studied his face attentively, “You look tired than usual. Did something happen back in school?”

“No, mother. I’m merely in need of some sleep.” He smiled, putting her worry to rest.

“Now? But I had the chiefs make your favourite sweet.”

“I shall eat them later.” He gave her a small, assurance smile, “Please excuse me.”

Leaving the larger bags to Tanaka to be taken care of, he headed toward his room.

* * *

Putting his small rucksack down near his table, he began to familiarise the room with nostalgic feelings. The room was cleaned to welcome back its master and nothing was out of place––his mother made sure of that. The world globe he used to play around with as a child was still on the top right corner of his desk, the lamp on his favoured left side, the books in shelves categorised in their respective subjects just as he has left them on the first day of his departure. But even with the effort to preserve the room just as one remembered, if a master empties his house for a long time, it was bound to become a stranger to him when he came back. It was that unsettling, eerie feeling as if someone had snuck into his room in dead of night, moved his furniture then put them back into their place again.

It was too quiet.

* * *

She puffed out the deadly smoke, curling her lip into a shape of Os’ as the smoke took the form of several different sized rings. There was only few left in her pack. Maybe she can get the kid to buy it for her. It wasn’t like their stance on legal age of smoking weren’t as strictly enforced as in her world anyway. Or maybe she should use this chance to quit smoking for good. She should know better than anyone this shit seriously killed.

“Smoking within the school property is prohibited.” The firm, raged voice shouted behind her.

She froze, coughing out the rest of the smoke. Slowly turning to face with the ‘double economics’ guy or Weiz-something she still had trouble pronouncing smoothly.

His eyes widened in recognition, pointing at her in shock, “Wait, you––Sebastian Rolls-Royce?!”

She scrambled up to her feet and bolted.

“STOP! ROLLS-ROYCE I COMMAND YOU TO STOP!”

 _Command you my arse. Like anyone would listen to that!_ She slid around the curve of the building, almost losing her balance. She was faster and more agile, not sure whether the fact that she was the Usain Bolt of running in heels from all the fuckboys in her life had something to do with her good running skills.

But the boy was persistent, hot on her trail like a cop with too much justice in his heart to give up his pursuit.

 _It was just one smoke!_ Julia inwardly cursed as the burning sensation in her legs became hotter and she knew her less than stellar stamina wouldn’t last too long. She needed to find a cover, quick.

Another turn around the corner, she came to face with a startled maid and realised that she had found the kitchen. Thankfully it was just one maid who was in progress of kneading the dough. The maid seemed shocked at the sight of the student and opened her mouth to say something when Julia quickly put her index finger on her lip in a gesture meant to be quiet.

Hearing the footsteps catching up to her in dangerously fast stride, she rushed toward the island she was currently working on, bent down and hid beneath the wooden table.

“Shhh!”

Not long after, the door burst open again and heard his voice asking, “You there, did you happen to see a student here by any chance?”

“No.” She intoned.

Julia was surprised at her smoothness and almost bored manner the maid exhibited as she lied. She expected at least some glance down for a cue and hesitation but the maid played her unexpectedly given role perfectly. The German boy simply turned and exited the kitchen. Julia decided to stay there for few minutes to make sure that he won’t burst in as the maid went back to kneading the dough nonchalantly.

Climbing out from under the island, peeking over to the door, she straightened her back as she rose up, “Thanks for the cover, uh…” She trailed off, waiting for the maid to give her name.

The woman simply glanced at her before wordlessly going back to sprinkle some more flour on the table.

“This is the part where you say your name.”

“Helga.”

“Thanks Helga.” Julia sighed in relief as she muttered, “That guy thinks he’s the Inspector Angel of the school…I’m Ju––Sebastian Rolls-Royce.”

Helga nodded before returning back to her duty.

“Can I take a slice of cake?” Julia pointed to the already cut cakes that she presumed was for the students.

“You can take one from the other pile; I’ll get into trouble if you touch those.” She pointed to the left over from what it seemed to be previous night’s dessert.

“Coolness.” Using the towel, she wrapped few pieces of cakes for later and grabbed one to go.

* * *

She was pleasantly surprised when she found few baskets of food that would last her at least two days in her barn. The baskets were craftily hidden in creative locations, no doubt the Phantomhive boy wanted her to actively search for it. It was still a fun way of spending the rest of otherwise boring day.

She’d occasionally see, while munching on her cakes, from the window view of the German boy still frantically looking for ‘Sebastian Rolls-Royce’. It was like her own little prank show in a world where TV yet existed. Shaking her head, she fell asleep to his shouts ‘Where are you?!’ ‘Sebastian Rolls-Royce, I know you are there!’

* * *

He hid in the part of the room when he wished to be undisturbed despite his sister’s insistence they make their tied scores determine a winner this time. The few servants worked in the background, out of his sight and sound. His mother had been called to the Queen to report her duty as the Watchdog but he was very aware the effort in her part to make sure he saw such side no more than necessary. Not until he was ready and of age. Beside him was the letter his mother had left him whilst she’s gone. Her elegant, cursive writings etched onto the centre of crisp oyster wove parchment:

**_Dear Vincent,_ **

**_Please receive the candies on my behalf whilst I am away. The servants have been notified of its delivery this evening. Be nice._ **

**_Love always,_ **

**_Mother._ **

There was a knock, a maid.

“Sir, the man is here to deliver you the package.”

“Thank you,” He stretched up from his bed, “Please escort him to the waiting room.”

“Yes, Sir.”

* * *

The man’s distaste to being in the townhouse was obvious to Vincent. The tea and cakes that were served to him was untouched so was his grip on the suitcase that did not lose its tightness until he entered the room.

“Inspector Randall.” A small tilt of the head, “Good evening.”

“Good evening.” Returned the bespectacled, stern looking young man as he stood up from the sofa.

“Please, sit.” Vincent said, “No need to be tense.”

The man’s shoulders and back were crouched as though curling himself into a small, tight ball, unwilling to touch anything within the manor more than necessary. It was an amusing sight to watch a grown man acting like a guarded cat with its hair standing on end, desperate to leave and never return. He’d think a future commissioner devised to deliver something so dishonourable and pious as bribe would be a more conniving liar.

“Private or public?” Vincent asked.

“Private.” Arthur Randall slid the suitcase across the table. Vincent opened its latch, revealing a vast amount of pound notes inside. Amidst the money were a beautiful ruby necklace and a thank you note from the Queen. No doubt the case his mother had closed was close to Her Majesty’s heart.

“I was expecting a cheque…” Vincent muttered to himself with a slightly raised brow. No matter, it was not important.

“You must be in line to be the next commissioner.” Vincent smiled as he closed the suitcase with a ‘click’ before looking up to the man across him, “Seeing that you are here instead of Mr. Chandler.”

“The office seems to think so, yes.” He cleared his throat.

Vincent nodded, giving the inspector the gesture that he had been waiting for ever since he stepped into the room. Both stood up and despite their height differences, there was something exuding within the young Lord which superseded the physical inequalities that wearied others to not make a mistake of underestimating this child.

It was the young heir that offered his hand first to the inspector and they did three firm shakes before they finalised their parting with a curt nod.

“I look forward to your promotion, Inspector Randall.” He said as a small smile spread on his face, “Have a safe trip home.”

Arthur hadn’t been aware he has been sweating until he rushed out of the formidable townhouse and the cool breeze welcomingly touched his face. He glanced over at the tall property looming over the London. _Phantomhive …_ he thought. _What a dreadful name it is._

Only a few in the public domain were aware of Phantomhive’s true status within the society. In a rather twist of fate, Arthur Randall, few years in his job had the misfortune of encountering such name in a very de trop situation. Ever since then, he had religiously accompanied the current commissioner on each personal visit to the manor to deliver the bribe but this was the first time he had gone alone. It was an unspoken rule that those outing were a way of knowing who were on the road to be the next commissioner. Even though that promotion would take years and years to come to fruit, the outings started early––to gently indoctrinate into the role. It was a vicious and uncomfortable cycle and one that conflicted with his code of moral and rules to the current circumstance.

Today he was surprised to meet the next Watchdog heir for the first time. He did not know what to expect until few minutes into the encounter that realising his own foolish mistake of subconsciously expecting an ordinary child. _Like mother, like son_ , he thought as he lighted his cigar.

Already the Phantomhive legacy had yet again tainted and claimed another of its victim.

_Those eyes, those manners..are not of a ‘child’._

Claudia Phantomhive was a woman who defied all the preconception of female sex and their place in the society. A widow and philanthropist; she was also a ruthless, ferocious dog that would tear anyone into shreds that dared to bear its teeth to her owner. It was no surprise such woman would bear a hound of similar temperament. He wondered what _this_ one would grow up to be.

* * *

Julia found a new enjoyment in watching the growing German boy’s frustration at the supposed mystery of ‘Sebastian Rolls-Royce’. It was a brief distracting moments that she needed away from all everything that was going through.

It seemed that the German boy was on vigilance for the sighing and whereabouts of Sebastian Rolls-Royce, determined to prove that there are indeed a boy that did not belong here. He also believed that sudden missing of his snacks also had to with Sebastian. He was very right about that.

She smiled as she chewed on the stolen chocolate from the dormitory; this was the distractions she needed. She had used up all her battery on her iPod within two days looking through her camera albums, playing games and listening to what would be the last time she’d ever hear or listen to Beyoncé or Drake or anything that was Modern Pop.

How ironic that her iPod died when she was listening to Nobody’s Home by Avril Lavigne. By the end of her little run down the memory lane, her eyes were puffy and red with bloodshot.

It was already Sunday evening, having spent the last few days and nights crying alone and praying for miracle. The earphones were still stuck in her ears, imagining her favourite songs was still playing loudly and her mum complaining she’d become deaf soon with the volume she was tuning into.

 _Isn’t anyone trying to find me?_ The singer’s voice echoed in her head, _Won’t somebody come take me home?_

“It does not seem like you to cry.”

Her head shot up in shock and in front of her was Vincent, a basket in his hand and a handkerchief in his other stretched out arm in offering to her. He gave her a small smile.

“I’m home.” He told her. He had spent more days within the school he did in his home. Despite having loving father and mother and a manor he fondly remembered his upbringing in, his friends and memories of friendships and unadulterated fun belonged here. To him, it was his home away from home.

Julia’s face was frozen shock, dried and fresh tears stained on her cheeks and arms. Her mouth formed a shape of ‘O’.

He gently reached out and wiped the tears away with the soft white silk material. Vincent understood the feeling she was experiencing to an extent. He, too, had experienced the sadness and loss that came with being so far away from home and away from his family. She seemed almost nonchalant in her predicament but just as he guessed, inside she was doing her best to hide her true emotions behind the façade.

“…Vincent…”

“Hm?”

“…” Julia opened and closed her lips, “I hope you brought a cake in there.”

He chuckled and gently pried the small piece of blanket covering the content inside to reveal a glimpse of few slices of Victorian sponge.

“How could I forget?”

* * *

  * **Verba ita sunt intelligenda, ut res magis valeat quam pereat.: Words are to be so understood that the subject-matter may be preserved rather than destroyed.**



**A/N: Hope you enjoyed this chapter although it was a bit short one. Thank you for being so patient with me. I would love to connect with you guys here again. Uni is over so I’m free from the chain called education!**

**I’d love to see some of you guys. Anticipating your reviews! Love you all.**

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	4. Prayer

 

“You are much more mellow when sober.” He commented while leaning against the haystack near her makeshift bed with half bitten bread in his hand. Julia was currently enjoying her second piece of cake.

“Yeah, I’m much more fun when I’m high, aren’t’ I?” She mentioned after swallowing the piece of food in her mouth.

“High?”

“When I’m under the influence of drugs.” She clarified.

“Ah…” He remembered then smiled, “I much prefer this side of you.”

Her mouth stopped chewing, then looked at Vincent and gasped, “Don’t be so mean!”

Vincent blinked, puzzled. His comment was meant to have been a compliment.

“Some of the best and nicest people are high people!” She defended.

Vincent sighed, _she reminds me of Diedrich…always in their own little world, impulsive and clueless. Then again, this may be her own way of dealing with things._

“I have enjoyed the small cakes you have given me.” He told her.

She tilted her head as if reaching out inside her memory to figure out what ‘little cakes’ he was referring to.

“Oh!” She nodded, “You mean the Jaffa Cakes? I never came across anyone that didn’t like Jaffa Cakes!”

“Tell me about your world.” He suddenly mentioned, “I want to know.”

“Hmm…” Julia stared at the ceiling, mustering up her memories, “Uh, I don’t know where to start. The world changed so much.”

“Then start with yourself.”

She smiled, “Well, I was born in ’98–1998 and my sister was born two years after me. My mum’s family is originally from Nigeria, moved before mum was born and my dad was born in UK but his parents are from Texas. I’m also part Italian, Irish, Filipino and German from both my grandparents side. It’s complicating, I’d love to do some DNA test to see what other roots I’ve got. Anyway, my parent both went to same school. She was year three, so she was like seven I think and he was year five, so ten. My dad told her that she needed to shave her legs –– I have no idea why and he doesn’t really know why he said it–– so she kicked him in his balls.” Vincent tilted his head and elevated a questioning aristocratic brow, “Fast forward few more years, they met again in the café she was working and he kept spilling his coffee so she would have to come clean it up and they got married, had me and my sister and divorced when I was seven.”

Vincent allowed the information to sink in. It was fascinating how much the world seemed to have change from the way she worded certain phrases or meant certain things or even how people behaved.

“And the society is fine with..divorce ?” He asked. The fact that she spoke of such personal affair easily seemed to hint that people’s views on the subject have become much kinder.

“Yeah, we’re much more relax on subjects like that. They weren’t happy together and it doesn’t always work so why stay in a relationship that’s just gonna hurt you all the time? And before I ended up here, I just finished my second year at uni so I was out celebrating with my friends.”

“Uni?”

“University.”

“You went to university?” He repeated, as if it was an absurd concept.

“The world progressed.” She simply explained rather than taking it as an insult to her intelligence.

“What did you study?”

“Chemistry.” She said as she finished the last bit of her cake.

He raised a brow, “Chemistry?”

“Why do everyone give me that look when I tell them I go to uni and study chemistry?”

“Yes, I wonder why. With your drug taking habits and drunken stupor…I’m not sure what it could be.”

“Well you shouldn’t judge the books by its cover then.” She told him, tapping the side of her forehead.

“May I ask which university you attend?”

“Um, not sure if it exists but Imperial?”

“I’m not too sure.” He said.

“Well it said it used to be several Royal colleges, mine being Royal College of Science before they merged to form Imperial.”

“It exists. His Majesty was the founder of the Royal Colleges along with avid support from Her Majesty, who always had a great interest in progressing the England’s scientific and technological power.”

“I literally prayed for five month straight to try and get into that uni because I messed up on maybe few of my tests.”

“Yes, it’s certainly is a miracle.” He agreed, earning a blank, pointed look from Julia.

“What happened to your leg?” Vincent nodded toward the site of the scar all while gazing toward the wall behind her to avoid prolong staring at her exposed calves and thighs.

“Oh this?” She traced the line of the thin scar that ran vertically down her right calf. Vincent watched as a small, sad smile appeared and regretted bringing up what it seemed to have been a painful memory.

“I apologise. It seemed my question was inappropriate. You don’t have to answer.”

“Nah, it’s fine.” She shrugged, “I was eight I think…I had a dachshund called Sausage and I was laying on the bed when Sausage jumped into the bed with me and his full momentum collided with my face; my nose broke and as I fell down the bed, I scratched my leg against the sharp part of the bed and that’s how I got this scar.”

“…”

Julia felt tears gather in her eyes. The fond memories were now just a hallow whisper of her old life in 2017. Now she was stuck in 1864; alone and without a reason as to why this had happened and why her. It took a while to notice that the boy has been very quiet, his head buried in his arms and shoulders visibly shaking.

It looked as if he was crying.

“Hey…are you ok?” Julia was startled when the laughter he was holding broke out of its constraint and his head thrown back.

“What’s so funny?” Julia’s eyes were widened with surprise. She had no idea why he was laughing. Yes the story about her injury was funny but it wasn’t so funny that it evoked this kind of reaction. The laughter died down soon after, wiping away the falling tears.

“You have a knack for trouble, don’t you?”

“Well apparently I do.” Julia smiled, “Oh, do you want to try some German sweets?”

Vincent frowned, brows furrowing on his forehead, “German sweets? Where did you get them from? He asked as he watched her crawl to the top side of her bed. He examined the few sweets Julia had laid out in front of him.

“I snuck into that German guy’s room and stole them.” She said without shame.

“Weizsäcker?” His brows shot up.

“Yea. I still can’t pronounce his surname though.”

“How did you manage that?”

“Well basically, I thought that maybe if I go back to where we first met, the magical portal that I fell through would appear and I’d be sucked back in but unfortunately it didn’t happen. So I was just sitting down, having a smoke,” She didn’t miss the disapproving look Vincent gave her, “And then he was like ‘you can’t smoke in school!’ and recognised me as Sebastian Rolls-Royce and chased me down. Luckily I didn’t get caught and decided to away with my boredom by just irritating him. Yesterday, I followed him to his dorm and rummaged through his belongings and found some snacks. I thought you’d know about it since he’s been going around the campus asking if anyone seen Sebastian Rolls-Royce and that he was the culprit for missing stuff like his food.”

His frown deepened, “No I was not aware. I decide to leave the townhouse early and came here straight away.”

“Why would––aww for me?!” Julia made a gesture of touched, “That’s so sweet!”

“I was worried for the school.” He explained, “You may burn it to the ground.”

“Whatever you say, Vincent.” Julia sang, “Can I hug you?”

“No.”

She gave him a quick arm wrap around his shoulders and moved away before he could manage to push her off of him. His cheeks were stained red although his expression was passive.

“Do you want some pocky?”

“Pock-what?”

“Pocky.” She said, taking her bag out and taking out two rectangular boxes, “I always carry lots of snacks around because I tend to get hungry after a night of binge drinking and I need constant upping of my sugar levels just to get through my life as student. Which flavour do you want? I’ve got strawberry, chocolate, cookie ‘n’ cream and green tea.”

She could see his eyes sparkle as he eyed the confectionery in wonder, “Let’s try it all then.”

Later that evening, she found that he liked cookie ‘n’ cream and green tea flavours.

“Here.” She said, handing the rest of remaining boxes to him, noting she hadn’t spared some for herself.

He looked up to her surprise, “Are you sure? Do you want me to give you something in return? I can give you whatever you need, money, jewellery, anything.”

“I would love to have some ice cream.” She said after a few minutes of pondering.

“Ice cream? Just ice cream?” He asked, unsure.

“You can magically transport me back to 2017 but I don’t think even you have the power to do that.” Julia sadly said.

He was quiet because he knew she was right. He might have the necessary title and power to provide and fulfil any materialistic demands but he was powerless to give her what she truly needed and wanted.

“I’ll bring the ice cream tomorrow with the evening’s meal.” He nodded and stood up, dusting his uniform, “I must get back to my dormitory.”

Julia’s hand reached out to grab onto his sleeves but stopped mid-air before bringing it back to her side. Vincent noted her hesitant from the corner of his eyes but made no announcement of his observation.

“Goodnight.” She said, “Thanks for coming to check on me.”

“It is no trouble at all.”

He watched as she closed the door, her eyes not meeting his and in fact turning away from it even before the door was fully closed. Vincent knew that she was growing increasingly lonely from the forced isolation.

* * *

As Julia had warned, the rumours of a mysterious student by the name of ‘Sebastian Rolls-Royce’ had spread among the other students. What worried him was the whispers will sooner or later; inevitably end up in professors’ ears.  He can’t have a German dog barking everyone awake in the middle of the night.

“I do not quite remember about having a student named ‘Sebastian Rolls-Royce’ in our year.” Vincent spoke up, heads turning toward his way.

Diedrich narrowed his eyes, “Well Mole, I saw Rolls-Royce few times with my own two eyes. Some of you have seen, few days ago, a boy stepping onto the lawn, no?”

Murmurs of agreement among other student body could be heard, earning a frowning look from Vincent.

“Ah, yes, I think I remember..”

“Perhaps he’s a ghost of a student who died here!”

“Now that you mention it, I believe I have seen a boy few days ago being reprimand for stepping on the lawn.”

“Perhaps he gave you a false name and year.” Vincent suggested, leaning against his chair, “After all, you cannot possibly know all the students attending the college by name, no?”

Vincent could see the nodding of heads at his suggestions.

“Then how do you explain the missing of my belongings? My sweets?”

“Have you checked the lost property? Maybe someone ate them thinking it was theirs’. All of it is replaceable; I am not sure why you are making such an unnecessary big fuss.”

“Weizsäcker, perhaps Vincent is right.” Alexis Midford put a comforting hand on Diedrich’s shoulder. The distinguished Midford family had long history with the Phantomhive family. While his family protected the country and the Queen from the dark, the Midford family were entitled to the rank Marquis as the head of knights that had protected England for generations in the light. It was common for the light and dark to clash with each other on occasions when their respective tasks called for a joint of hands.

Diedrich gave the Marquis heir a glare before directing it to him.

“I am raising this seemingly absurd case because I have witnessed him breaking several rules,” Diedrich glowered, “Such as smoking within the premise.”

That had raised a few brows from other students while Vincent supressed the urge to massage his aching temples. Drinking, smoking and drugs. What a dangerous combination.

“That is a serious problem,” Vincent agreed, “However, a simple words of accusation only has so much strength. Were you able to catch him?”

“No.” He huffed angrily, “I lost him.”

“Well…” Vincent started, “No culprit, no physical evidence, no witnesses –– other than you –– it’s not a well prepared case, is it not?”

The other students looked at Diedrich for the answers but the German noble, despite his distaste for the Phantomhive heir, grudgingly nodded, head hung low. For now, the German dog seized his barking, ear hung back, tail and head lowered. But dogs with their stubborn streak, don’t back down once they caught the slightest scent of their prey.

Vincent wondered if the trouble was worth his time. She had her uses in providing him with ideas that could further Funtom but he wasn’t as concerned as his metier as Watchdog.

 _But…_ a small smile appeared, _my life is much less boring._

Diedrich silently studied the Phantomhive heir who seemed to be lost in his thought. A cryptic smile proposed a trouble in brewing but did not know what that smile meant. For whatever the reason, his mind nagged something was going on. Something in his head presumed the mole and Sebastian Rolls-Royce was also a part of the ingredients. He did not voice it out loud as not to have the Phantomhive up his guard more than he already has –– which Diedrich is already having hard time trying to penetrate it –– but Diedrich was very aware that Phantomhive knew this Sebastian Rolls-Royce. He was very sure. And for whatever the reason, he was going to a great length to distract others from the subjects.

_What are you up to, Mole?_

* * *

Vincent Phantomhive was the perfect child of the infamous noble Phantomhive family. For generations, they were entitled to the Earldom and all the favours and prosperity that came along with nobility. Their philanthropy and successful businesses were well documented among their peers. Only one could imagine the burden that fell on their one and only heir –– their first born. His image and record was impeccable just as expected of an heir and nothing was out of place than what was expected of him. But recently, Diedrich noted cracks appearing in his little bubble of perfect. It was small that most would not really notice or care. But the fact that after all the years of immaculate effort that he started to crumbles was worrying.

If it hadn’t for a random chance of coincidence, he’d never have seen the crumbs. The Phantomhive heir was always up and ready before anyone and the last to go to sleep after hours of study in the library. It was easy to get around the mandatory curfew and many teachers were willing to turn blind eyes to some, more likely if you happened to be the son of more prominent noble. Fortunately for Vincent, being professor’s favourite and Phantomhive heir, being late out curfew was one of perks he had in his disposable.

Diedrich had been about to return to his dorm from the library having skipped his supper when he saw a familiar figure heading out from the window of the upper part of the building. It would not have been strange had it not for the covered basket and that Vincent was running. Running. A noble never ran. Unless the country was about to fall to ruin or Her Majesty dire the need one’s presence or their wealth were lost, there weren’t many other reasons that would have set someone like Vincent Phantomhive into a near sprint.

Diedrich quickly staggered down the stairs and out of the building in attempt to catch the sight of fleeting Vincent but he was too late.

“Damn it.” He cursed. _Just what are you up to, Mole? What is going on with you?_

* * *

He had only few minutes to get to the barn before the ice cream inside the basket melt. He wasn’t like his sister who was the more athletic of the two much to others’ disapproval who believed a lady should be a frail damsel in distress rather than running around with a dangerous sword and wear trousers and ride horses like men. There hadn’t been much reason in his life for him to run in a way he did and it wasn’t a pleasant sensation to feel your lung tighten.

He didn’t even bother to knock or to think beforehand that she might be indecent before he barged open the door and invited himself in without waiting for her to give him the clear.

Panting furiously, he looked around and saw a glimpse of her leg sticking out from the stacked hays on the upper attic.

“Are you asleep?” He asked.

No answer.

“..Julia?” He called, her name sounding foreign and awkward on his tongue.

“Wake up!” He shouted. The only answer was the quiet snore of her deep slumbering state.

Putting the basket on one of the hays, he climbed up to the attic and carefully stepped toward the unconscious figure sprawled across the dirty floor. She doesn’t seem to mind her hair was full of odd hays that resembled a bird nest. He wondered if she wasn’t too hot wearing burgundy baggy top although she was still wearing the inappropriate body hugging short bottoms that only covered her mid thighs.

All thoughts ran through his mind in speed that he couldn’t catch. His life has been so ordinary, so normal..so boring before she came along.

 _‘Give me a meaning in life. Something. Anything.’_ He had once prayed. All his life there had been nothing but an endless cycle of dull and bored life of luxury.

**_“You must be the young Lord of Phantomhive family.” One of the young woman said, half of her lower face hidden by the lace delicate fan held in her gloved hands, “What a promising young lad.”_ **

**_“It is nice to meet you, Mr. Phantomhive.” Another man curtsied, “This is my son, Leon. We hope to make your acquaintance.”_ **

**_“The heir to the Phantomhive family…”_ **

**_“You must befriend the young Phantomhive boy. He is to be the next Earl.”_ **

**_“Claudia, what a lovely son you have.”_ **

**_“He exceeds in everything he pursues.”_ **

**_“A perfect child.”_ **

**_“We must be nice to him.”_ **

**_“Do whatever he tells you. He is your friend.”_ **

**_Boring._ **

**_Pathetic._ **

**_“Vincent, come, this is Emily, the Baroness Campbell of Surbiton.”_ **

**_Boring, ridiculous woman._ **

**_“Hello, Baroness Campbell! My name is Vincent Phantomhive.” A toothy grin appropriate for ten years old should suffice._ **

_Are you my answer?_ He asked inwardly as his eyes studied the sleeping figure beneath him. _Something novel that I hopefully won’t become bored of.._

His arm strayed away from his side to hover above her face, her breath grazing his knuckle and it almost looked like he’d close the gap. Instead his hand moved away from her face and went to shake her shoulder to awake her.

She jumped, startled at the sudden interruption and he saw her eyes open. Her eyes were dark, black, a colour of abyss pit as opposed to his much lighter orbs.

Julia turned to look at the face that hovered above her. Blinking as she registered the blurry image, she said, “Kid, is that you?”

“I’m not a ‘kid’.” He sighed, “I have called you many times to no avail. I brought your ice cream. Although I cannot assure that it has not melted.”

“As long as its ice cream, I don’t mind.” She murmured sleepily.

She lazily rolled over into an upright position, rolling her neck and stretching her back, “Morning.”

“It’s afternoon and only eight o’clock.” He answered.

“Yeah, yeah.” She waved dismissively. Wordlessly, she climbed down to where the basket is and pulled back the covering to reveal butter, bread, milk, water, ice cream, chips, vegetables, Sunday roast and Yorkshire pudding. Her eyes widened at the delicious and sumptuous content, “Woah, this is like a feast!”

Vincent didn’t say anything as he climbed down, simply watched as she grabbed the pudding with her hand and bit into it. For a moment, he almost saw his sister’s face on hers’.

“You’re just like my sister.” He unconsciously revealed. Much to his horror, she dipped a chip into the partially melted ice cream.

“You have a sister?” She gaped, “Don’t look at me like that! Dipping chip into ice cream is like the best combo ever!”

“I do.” He weakly let out as his frown deepened as she dipped a bit of Yorkshire pudding into the ice cream.

She waved him closer. He stepped toward her, stopping just a short of arm length. Dipping a chip into the ice cream, she held it to him, “Try it.”

He made a disgusted face and pulled away, “No, thank you.”

“Try it!” She forced.

“No.” He firmly replied.

“You said you can give me anything right?”

“But that deal was sealed.” He retorted.

“I gave you what like four recipes? So that means I can get four favours. One was spent on ice cream; another is that you eat this chip!”

Vincent groaned but quickly supressed it for it wasn’t fitting for someone of his standing to show such relapse in social situation.

He eyed the ice cream dipped chip, a horribly mismatched duo.

“Come on! Don’t tell me you’re scared?” She grinned, “Ha, you’re scar––“

Vincent snatched a chip from her hand and quickly shoved it into his mouth, chewing quickly. The texture and taste was foreign in his mouth but then, much to his surprise, he found that the odd pair actually made for a delicious taste. The oily, salty chip and the sweetness and coolness of the ice cream seemed to complement each other in weirdest way possible.

“It’s nice isn’t it?” Julia quipped with a smile.

“..It’s certainly an interesting taste. Not bad.”

“I told you.” Julia flipped her hair having proven herself right, “Wanna try the pudding one?”

Vincent was hesitant but nodding.

She dipped the piece of pudding into the vanilla and held it up. He wasn’t used to being fed by hand, the act was more common amongst the commoners and was seen by his peers as dirty, unhygienic act.

“Eating from my hand isn’t going to kill you.” She said, “Beside, you 19th century people don’t have much to say what’s hygienic and what’s not. Some things you’ve done are considered unhygienic in my time.”

“And eating by hand isn’t considered unhygienic in your time?”

“Well people’s opinions differ.” She said, “My hands are clean so eat up. Quickly before the ice cream falls!”

He leaned forward, opening his mouth as her hand came toward him. As he bit onto the bread gently as not to accidentally bite down her fingers, he felt her fingers graze his bottom teeth then his lower lip. His lips tingled at the intimacy. She stood there, blinking curiously while waiting for him to comment his opinion on the food.

“So…?”

“It’s good.”

“Right!” She grinned and grabbed the spoon to scoop out the melted ice cream. Sitting on top of the haystack, she used the fork to eat the steak and vegetables while Vincent sat across her.

“So what’s your sister’s name? How old is she?”

“Her name is Francis. She is eleven.”

“Huh, you seemed more of an ‘only child’ type.”

“I am not spoiled.” His brow twitched.

“No comment.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I rather not say anything to that question or comment.” She explained, “Usually when the said questions or comments are the ‘you know it, I know it, everyone knows it, what’s to say otherwise’.”

“Which means you still think I am a mere ‘spoiled kid’.”

“No comment.”

“I can promise you I’m far from spoiled.”

“No comment.”

He sighed.

“Hey, do you think you can grant me my third wishes?” She noticed how he suddenly became gloom as if dreading her next sentence, “It’s simple really.” Her eyes lowered to her dangling legs.

“I want to see the outside world.”

He would be lying if he said that he was surprised at her request to escape this lonely isolation. Vincent was simply anticipating that request, biding when she will ask to go out.

“I shall think about it.”

She grinned, “Thanks! I just want to get out of here.”

* * *

On certain weekdays, with the permission of a parent or guardian, the school permitted their students to make trip to the central London for two hours of free activities. He decided that the oncoming special week would be a better time to take her out under the disguise of another fellow student of the school. Being seen with a man was much more invisible than being seen with a woman.

The carriage left nine in the morning, hours after morning tea and register.

“Wear the hat and uniform and blend in with the others outside the dormitory.” He said to her as she diligently listened and nodded to his instructions.

“I will look for you and we will get in the carriage together.” He continued, “Try not to speak or get noticed than necessary. If they ask you for your name, tell them your name is Charles Spencer. If they ask you for your year, tell them you’re in your third year.”

“Don’t worry. I watched all the 007 series. I can be James Bond.”

Vincent frowned and sighed in frustration, “I do not know what you have just said but I hope it means you know what to do.”

She simply gave him the thumbs up and a smile.

* * *

Vincent wondered if he made a mistake. He didn’t usually make many mistakes and did his best to avoid making one from the beginning. As his professor checked his name on the list and headed out, eyes continuously moving in search for the person in question, trepidation slowly crept in.

 _I’m sweating._ He realised, unable to comprehend the strange sensation he was experiencing.

His head was down, the top hat hiding most of his upper face from others but still sharp enough to search through the crowd for the very person he was looking for, he stayed back from others and slowed his pace. As the students’ steps quickened and neared the area where the carriages await, inwardly he began panicking. Vincent couldn’t find her, overtly turning his body to look around.

Then a cold hand covered his eyes, blinding him. A warm breath on the crook of his neck that flustered him in a way he could not describe and shallow whisper, “You lost someone?”

“I did.” He smiled.

Julia removed her hand from his eyes and he turned to glance over his shoulder. Her hair was tied into a bun and hidden by the hat and donned a standard uniform like him. Even with the disguise, he could still detect the feminine features leaking through.

“’Sup, bro.” She greeted with her deepened voice.

“What does that mean?”

“It shortened for what’s up, brother. ‘What’s up’ is a much fun way of saying how do you do?”

“I see.”

“I found you.” She said with a smile; this time with her real voice seeing that they were alone.

“It seems you did.” He said, “Come, the carriage is about to leave.”

They managed to get on the last carriage and much to their relief, they were the only occupants. Opening the window, Julia watched in awe as the carriage travelled through the large thicket surrounding the school until River Thames were within her sight.

“I can’t believe I’m actually looking at 19th Century London! Holy shit!”

“Language.” He chastised her.

His words remained unheard to Julia who was engrossed with the wonders of scenery discordant with her own memory of London that she came to know.

“What does your London looks like?” He asked, watching as some of her loose strands blew against the direction of the wind.

She began to describe all the architectures and landmarks she could remember from her memory, the London Eye, the Tower Bridges, and The Thames House. Although he didn’t show it, something akin to awe and proud was felt within his chest.

“Across that bridge, there’d be this really awesome food stalls,” She pointed to the far distance, “Over there you can get the bus that’d go to my university, over there would be the Trafalgar Square and there’d always be something fun going on. And few minutes from there would be China Town that I always go to eat…” She trailed off as hazy memories began to clear like a foggy bathroom cooling to reveal her own reflection in the mirror.

Vincent remained quiet throughout the journey, silently observing the changes in her countenance as the carriage wavered through the paths to the destination. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	5. Antinomy

 

Julia wasn’t sure what she imagined when one mentioned Victorian London. The city was oddly familiar yet alien; it was almost like the scenes from many historical movies she’s seen yet something felt different. The people, the architecture, the ambience. It’s a bustling Victorian metropolis, thriving, sooty and poverty-stricken and the air itself was chocked with heavy smog hovering below the sky. Filth was everywhere: horse traffic filled the streets with dung, household rubbish uncollected and cesspools brimmed with ‘night soil’.

Down the side of the roads were vendors selling a wide array of objects from ordinary buttons and cuffs to glittering gemstones, from so-called ‘magical’ elixirs promising beauty and health to exotic animals imported from all over the world. Carriages passed by and she could hear the faint ringing of ship’s bells arriving to the dock. A gypsy man with a rugged violin showcasing his jolly musical skill next to the dingy bookstore, his worn, feathered hat by his feet, collecting coins. Julia nearly bumped into a street orphan sprinting past her, hounded by an angry baker shouting ‘Stop him!’ No one did.

Julia blinked.

This is Victorian London, the jewel of England.

“Is it close to your impression?” Vincent asked, noting her stillness. Something he thought was unusual, given her loud, out-spoken disposition. Although, he did wish he could see that quietude in her more.

“I don’t know.” Julia muttered, frowning “..I’m so fucking confused.”

Vincent quickly glanced around, ensuring her vulgar speech wasn’t heard by others before turning his gaze onto her.

“Is there anything you wished to do?”

“What do you usually do?” She asked.

“I have lunch at the café I frequent, visit the bookstores, buy few things I may need and walk around until it is time to leave.”

Her hand rested up on her chest as though she was having a heart attack, eyes glowered, “You’re telling me you wasted two hours of your life that you’re never gonna get back of and two hours of freedom from the most boring school ever to _eat and read_?”

“It’s fun.”

“It’s _boring_.” Julia shook her head, “Do you really have nothing to do here? What do your other fun-loving friends usually do?”

Vincent was initially silent, speaking up after a minute, shadow framing his face as his eyes slightly hardened, “They fuck whores, drink, smokes and gamble. Is that what you wish to do?”

Julia would be lying if she hadn’t been taken aback by his sudden wounding boldness, her teasing expression slipping into stunned, wide-eyed look. She quickly recovered, dismissing the harshness in his words.

“Finally, something I understand.” Julia exclaimed in relief, “I like all that. You wanna try?”

“What?” Vincent frowned.

“You wanna do it in the order you said it or nothing in particular?” Julia retorted, “What’s wrong with seeing fun in that?”

Vincent sighed in defeat, shoulders slagging, “What do you wish to do first?”

“Hmmm, shagging with a prostitute sounds interesting way to pass the two hours.”

“..But they are mostly females.” He said, leaving it unfinished.

“I like girls.” Julia grinned, “Different from guys you know.”

Vincent blinked, registering her words and coy smile before his face flushed hot red.

“Hey, let’s go!” Julia eagerly shouted.

* * *

The dingy, dark shack was dilapidated, thick with filth and smoke in the flesh-pit of London. It reeked of something rotting mingling with musty, stale smell of an unclean toilet. They were cramped with other sweaty, greasy bodies of lower class although she could see men in their custom suits made up almost a half of the total observers in the room. Bets raged back and forth through the pressing crowd, handful of them dressed in their school uniform, chugging down a bottle of beer (underage aged for sure from that awkward, growing phase look) while waving notes in their hands, enthusiastically cheering their betted player on. She could taste the aftertaste of bile, sweetish sour of alcohol lingering in the air, perfectly complementing the unwashed-and-still-metabolising post-bender bitter pore seepage.

All this was overpowered by the roar of blood-thirsty mob and meaty thud of a fist smashing into a face and a crack echoing painfully throughout the tight compartment. The man staggered back from the blow, blood slipping down from his busted lip. The man smirked, excited. The man was larger and taller than the opponent but flabby. The smaller man, stripped to the waist, all sinew and gristle.

“Bet on that smaller guy.” Julia muttered to Vincent.

He handed over to one of the croupiers walking around few coins who handed him a piece of paper.

“Who did you bet on?”

“Same as you.” He replied confidently. Grinning, Julia offered him her palm much to his confusion before explaining, “Give me five.”

Vincent stilled for a moment then reached into his pocket to pull out a five pound note and put in on her palm. She blinked then burst into laughter, “No, I mean hi-five! You’re meant to slap your palm against mine.”

He frowned but did as he was told, smacking their palms lightly, “What does this signify?”

“Well you can use it as greeting or congratulating someone or celebrating, it’s more fun than your everyday ‘hey’ or ‘well done!’ don’t you think?”

“It’s a..”

“Weird concept I know.” Julia finished for him, “By the way, thanks for the money.”

Vincent sighed in exasperation as he watched her shove the note into the inner breast pocket. The smaller man was fast and agile, ducking and blocking the larger man’s punch. He threw nothing in return, simply using his reflex for defense. Once or twice, the small man would reach out and gently scrape the larger man’s face or throat through the small openings but that was all. The small man is completely in control. Then as though bored and done with the child’s play, he unleashes a series of lightning fast moves incorporated with exotic martial arts, the blinding combination culminating with a double spinning kick to the big man’s knee, which buckled altogether wrong then to his face.

The giant man falls, over and out. The crowd fell silent, unsure and there isn’t much of a sport. The small man shrug. The place went wild. Julia clapped and cheered for the man as he exited the small makeshift ring.

She headed straight to the bar where a barmaid sent the pair a flirty smile which Julia returned.

“What’s your name?” Julia asked.

“Lou. Lou Bennett.”

“Sebastian.” She offered her hand for a shake, “Sebastian Rolls-Royce.”

Lou took her hand, giving it a shy slight grip, lovely red hues spreading across her cheeks. Julia liked that smile. She decided to dive in.

“Excuse me for this, but are you free after work?” Julia asked.

She gave a slight nod, “I finish at eight.”

“That’s perfect–“

“–ly not possible.” A voice interrupted with a tightening squeeze on her shoulder in warning. Vincent turned to Julia with a forced smile, “We must head back soon, have you forgotten?”

“I can just give her my number.” Julia answered innocently before realising her slip up.

Lou frowned slightly, confused while a look of chagrin appeared on Vincent’s countenance.

“Damn,” Julia cursed, realising Lou probably didn’t have WhatsApp or phone for that matter, “I have to go but I’ll see you again, Lou!”

Lou nodded with a smile, waving goodbye as Julia was forcibly dragged away, snaking through the pushing crowds to the outside before releasing her almost harshly.

“You cannot behave that way.” He tensed before adding, “At least while you’re wearing that.”

“So I can do whatever I want as long as I’m not Sebastian Rolls-Royce?”

“Are you not ashamed at all?”

“What’s there to be ashamed?” Julia shrugged, “I like her and she seemed to like me.”

“She does not know you’re a woman.”

“I’ll tell her when I get the chance.” Julia said, rolling her eyes, “If she’s still interested then we’ll make do, if not it’s cool.”

“You do not like men then?” He suddenly asked.

“I don’t discriminate.” Julia smirked, intention clear and earning bright red flush to his cheeks.

Rummaging through her pocket, she pulled out a small bottle of alcohol she had stolen from a poor fellow standing beside her, too immersed to the match to notice his preciously purchased drink being taken right under his nose.

“Even after all you’ve been through, you’re still willing to drink…someone’s leftover?”

“Think of it as drinking my sorrow and loneliness.” She took a huge swig and putting the empty glass back to her pocket.

“I like your alcohols better, much stronger and unhealthier..probably unregulated too.”

“It’s time to go back.” He said turning toward the road they came from.

Julia hurried, catching up to his pace and excitedly asked, “Well, did you have fun?”

“What’s fun in watching people fight?”

“It’s better than going to café and reading books.” She retorted.

Vincent threw something from the corner of her eyes, her arms quickly stretching toward the air to catch. Her hat.

“Wear it.” He ordered, “Before anyone sees you.”

The pair boarded the last carriage, rows of black carriages and horses trotting back to school. Julia watched as the buildings blurred into shapeless blobs and dark, heavy smog enveloping the city like a blanket. She was dreading going back to the school, to the small barn that was her everything. Her prison.

“We can go to the city again.” He said as though he read her mind.

“Yeah, I’d like that.” She smiled.

* * *

The Victorian building at night possessed an eerie beauty and fragility one could describe as fleeting. The faintly lit candle from few windows in the building and the moonlight were the only source of light she could rely on to see. It was so strange – the absence of man-made light and sounds. No street lights. No neon signs. No cars. Just silence. The sounds of nature. In a world where everything was fast-paced, loud and bright, this seemed like a pleasant change.

Julia quickly undressed and quietly entered the lake. The water was clear and cleaner than River Thames at this era although she never liked washing in cold water and the time she could wash without anyone catching her was at night meant she had to make do with freezing temperature. The summer season here was cooler and longer than modern time but she suspected with the deepening bone-chilling cold, autumn was coming.

And one thing she absolutely hated was that shampoo didn’t exist at this time which was a bad news for her hair. Having born with natural curls meant taming it was a lot harder – even with the modern products and so much more difficult without it and being used to washing it every day meant her hair would get itchy and oily a lot quicker. The soap and comb Vincent gave her wasn’t doing much either.

_Snap_

Julia whipped around in fright, coming facing with tired looking Vincent holding several books under his arms.

“At least make some sound!” She hissed, swimming to the lake pier and partially heaving herself up from the water as he kneeled down on the edge.

“What you’ve been up to?”

“Studying.” He muttered while nodding to the heavy books he was carrying. Normally, he’d have pointed out her ‘indecent’ manner but he remained quiet, oblivious even.

“Since dinner?” Julia frowned with worry, “It’s really late – you should be asleep by now..it’s not good for your health you know.”

He shrugged her off with dismissive wave, “Your worry is appreciated but I’m fine.”

“You shouldn’t be pushing yourself too hard.”

A lopsided smile appeared, “..It’s odd hearing that.”

He looked so exhausted. The hanging eyelids, glazed red eyes, dark bags and fine lines shadowing his youthful face made him look so much older than he actually was. He was a child – he should be having fun like any other 14 years old should be, not as though he was shouldering the whole weight of the world on those little shoulders of his.

Julia was never the one to champion diligent preparation despite having every reasons to do so – no – she was that I’ll-do-it-tomorrow-looking-at-last-year’s-exam-paper-the-night-before-and-crying-where-her-life-went-wrong while envying those that seemed to have their ‘shits’ together. She thought it’d be effortless to him – the perfect student who was too serious for life – but she could see the diligence and sacrifice it took for him to achieve it.

“Hey, put your books down for a moment.” Julia said.

To her surprise, he did as she asked without hesitation or his usual questioning.

She raised herself up so that their eyes levelled. His curious gaze met her mischievous glints before she grabbed his wrist and pulling him toward her.

“Wah–!”

Vincent plunged into the cold water with a loud splash echoing throughout the serene night. His eyes snapped open underneath, alert and stunned. He kicked himself up to the surface, gasping for breath as his chest rapidly rose and fell from the shock of the coldness.

There was gamut of expressions transpiring, bemused then slowly twisting into umbrage, his usual delicate features more defined at the moment of powerful emotion. His lips were bared and eyes narrowed before melting into puzzled as he regarded Julia who had erupted into laughter.

“Are you mad?! Why are you laughing?!” Vincent demanded angrily, splashing the water toward her and precipitate the beginning of their little water fight. Julia slammed down her arm to the surface, parting them and jets of water shot out to attack Vincent.

She wasn’t sure how long they went to and fro beating waters to each other, venturing who can throw the most and strongest tide. The sound of their laughter and lively movements in the lake filled the tranquil night and for a little moment, these unlikely pair whose world should have never collided; one a 21st century working class girl and a blue blooded boy, intrigued in their childish play, found a short but much needed solace. Their worries, their differences, their duties, abandoned on the shore like the scattered books on the edge of the pier.

Their laughter died into chuckle then ceased, chests heaving with arduous effort at their recent exertion.

“You look like yourself again.” She breathed, catching her breath.

“You’re absolutely mad, do you know that?!” He mentioned, gulping down the air greedily and much to his embarrassment, he registered her bare skin and quickly jerked his head to the side, “Get dressed!”

“Oh, yeah.” Julia muttered with a blush, “Shoot, sorry. I’m getting out.”

She hopped out and dried herself with the towel Vincent had given her this morning, dressing into her usual hoodie and leggings. Vincent followed suit after, dragging along with his heavy, wet tailored white blouse and black trousers plastered against his pale skin.

“Well?” He demanded with a raised brow.

“It was fun” She grinned excitedly.

“I..cannot…” He took another breath, “Believe you made..me..participate in..such childish..games.”

“You were serious for someone who thought this was childish games.” She retorted, “You slapped me like ten times.”

“You slapped me too.”

“Guess..it’s equal.” Julia inhaled deeply. “I’m tired, I’m going to sleep. Good night Vincent!” Julia waved, leaving dumfounded heir on the pier as he watched her disappear into the darkness.

Vincent sighed, collapsing onto the pier in exhaustion as he gazed at the bright moon peak in the sky. A perfect circle, usurping the darkness and everything underneath its embrace. He brought his arm to cover his eyes from its brightness, his mind replaying the scene over and over.

“Hmph.” Breathy laughter escapes him, small smile grazing his lip.

* * *

_“I’m fine. I just need some sleep, that’s all.”_

Vincent woke up to an empty room with a shiver, his body heavy and damp with cold sweat yet fiery to touch. He tried to keep his eyes open with great difficulty. His dry tongue flicked out and licked his cracked lips. His mouth was dry as leather, and as he swallow his eyes clenched shut in pain; his throat felt like sandpaper.

He had to wake up. He had lessons. He had to get breakfast to Julia. His eyes fluttered against the pressing weight of his lids, struggling against the losing war before succumbing to the compelling pull of deep, dreamless slumber.

* * *

Julia knew something was up when her purveyor didn’t appear with his usual delivery of her breakfast basket. The sun was at its highest in the sky, she could see students walking by and few resting by the lake. Her stomach rumbled, painfully tightening in protest the many hours since its last meal.

Her concern grew and worry redoubled in her as she thought out possible list as to why he was not here to deliver her food.

Maybe he forgot. Maybe he was busy. Maybe he was trying to starve her to death.

The bell signalled the end of break as students hurried to their classroom. The field now empty. Julia decided a personal visit was in order. She knew they shared bedroom when she snuck in to steal Diedrich’s chocolate although she didn’t know which dormitory Vincent resided in. Dressing into the uniform, she took the turn leading toward students’ quarter, glancing back and forth to ensure no one had seen her. The four grandeur houses were divided up in acres of lands and stories of building so vast it’d take days for her to check all of them – she had only been lucky to figure out Diedrich’s when she followed him.

From the distance, she saw a maid approaching and hid into the dark corner that cut into the path. Holding her breath as the maid passed by, Julia recognised her face and reached out to grab her. The maid jolted in surprise toward the arm that seemingly materialised out of nowhere until Julia emerged into the light.

“Helga.” Julia breathed with a smile, “Not sure if you remember me..”

“I remember you.” She intoned calmly. She had had a very monotone way of speaking it seemed, sensing no signs of anger nor rudeness.

“I was wondering if you know which house Vincent Phantomhive belonged to.”

“He’s in the Blue House.” She told her, “Sapphire Owl.”

“Which way is it?”

“Go straight and you will see a fountain, turn left and keep walking until you see white walls bordering a building. The entrance will feature a crest of an owl.”

“Thanks, Helga!” She grinned and left.

“He didn’t come this morning to pick up your breakfast.”

Helga’s word stopped her mid-track. Julia’s eyes widened. Oh no, she’s been caught. _She knows. How did she know?_

She quickly recovered. “He didn’t come?”

“No.” Helga said, “Maybe he’s sick.”

Julia froze and her worry start to grow at Helga’s imply and hurried to the Blue House. She found the white walls bordering the premise of the Blue House as Helga described, the entrance of grand height leading to the central building. Although the Victorian building appeared simple and elegant, one could see it was embellished with elaborate stone work suggesting considerable skills was required to build such elements.

She entered the building, closing the door quietly behind her. Every sound was magnified. The tiny click of shut doors amplified into a bang, her footsteps and rustling of her clothing echoed in the empty hallway. She was reminded of those horror movies set in old, huge mansion where everything seemed a little too cold and empty and the whispers in the wind.

Someone’s cough, Julia stopped as she turned to the source of the sound. There. The room furthest down the corridor. She peek the door open; poking out her head for a quicksilver glimpse of Vincent she hoped had been the one that had made the sound.

Down the furthest right rows of double beds, she could make out dark bluish-hair buried inside the blanket and Vincent curled into a foetus position. Another cough.

“Vincent?” Julia frowned and closed the door behind her, “Are you okay?”

He didn’t answer – he didn’t seem to notice her approaching.

Julia gently pull down the cover, enough for her to touch his forehead with the back of her hand and shocked at the burning trail it left on her skin.

“Shit,” Julia’s eyes widened, “Vincent, don’t go into the light. Shit.”

“Stop…swearing.” Vincent muttered weakly.

Everything was cloudy, obscure as though hidden behind a fog. Then a faint glow seeped through his attention, like a cat’s eye gleaming in the dark.

 _“Vincent.”_ The voice rang in his ears. It had come from somewhere over his head. It sounded familiar.

 _“Shit, Vincent, don’t go into the light.”_ Ah. It was her.

 Vincent struggled to see through the haze – then everything seemed to clear. It was like the wind blowing a mist away, and the light proved to be the sunlight that shone in through the window when curtains had been drawn aside.

He opened his eyes to see her face. She stood between him and the candle, and the natural light created a corona of rainbows around her hair. He tried to breathe, but found his nose were stuffed and runny. He opened his mouth, but his dry, cracked lips and tongue stopped the words he attempted to form, and he closed his eyes in frustration, “This…is..your fault.” He managed to say after few moments.

He felt her hand resting on his face, unconsciously leaning into the coldness their contact brought.

“You didn’t dry yourself off as soon as you got out, did you?” She realised, “I’m sorry, I didn’t meant for you to get sick.”

“It is a bit too late to apologise.” Vincent dismissed, “Leave me be. Few hours of sleep would do me good.”

“Should I call someone?”

“Don’t bother..go…” Vincent closed his eyes and brought up the cover all the way to his head.

Julia frowned and shook her head, “Wait here.”

She hurried back to the central buildings, to the kitchen that was separated from the main premise where students were gathered and knocked before entering.

Thankfully, Helga was there chopping vegetables, large pots boiling behind her. The kitchen was hot and humid with smoke and windows were fogged.

“Helga, are you busy?”

“Yes.” She said without hesitation.

“Shoot, you’re right, Vincent is sick.” She said, “Then would you mind if I use the kitchen as well?”

Helga looked up and pointed with her knife holding hand, “You’re going to have to change then.”

Julia glanced down at her uniform, agreeing having other servants walk in to find a ‘student’ in the kitchen would cause quite the commotion.

“Do you have a spare uniform I can borrow?”

Helga set the knife down, wiped her hands before motioning her to follow. Julia followed her to the servants’ hall not too far from the kitchen. It was a small, plain room sparse aside from wooden tables and chairs with separate sitting area.

Helga pulled out a set of dress from one of the cabinets lined by the wall in the sitting room and handed it to her.

Julia raised a brow, “Uh…”

“I know you’re a girl.” She revealed, “Dress quickly before anyone sees you.”

“Well…” Julia found herself speechless, accepting the dress as she shed the uniform and hat.

“Your hair…” Helga’s eyes widened and backpedalled in shock, “How is it possible?”

Ah, shit, pink hair. Julia cursed, “Oh, it’s hair dye. Nice colour, eh.”

Helga didn’t respond, wearily approaching before gently cupping some strands in her hand and combed through it, mesmerised before recovering.

“You will need to cover your hair.” Helga gathered the hair into a bun and veiled its bizarre colour with white mop cap.

“Won’t people notice?”

“There are many servants – most whom we do not know by names or faces.” Helga curtly explained, “Come. You look fine.”

* * *

Helga was right; servants didn’t seem to notice her at all as they scurried in and out of the kitchen with hurried footsteps. Their lives were fast-paced and vigorous, invisible and unnoticed, often times ignored, by the society they served and maintained. In a small household, the servants may have the leisure to bond and chatter but in large and prestigious college such as Weston, this was not an option if they wished to keep their employments.  

Julia came to know that Helga was a kitchen maid and didn’t seemed to know her exact age nor birth dates as earliest memory she had was being taken from her home country and sold from households to households until with an outstanding  recommendation from a former employer, manage to land a job at Weston College. This was the case for most girls working as maids, Helga said. Julia was grateful Helga didn’t delve into as to why a girl was hiding in all boys’ college and having someone like Vincent Phantomhive play a little maid to her biddings.

Julia put the poured soup, jar of water, cup, towels, cutleries, cloths and change of bed sheet and cover into the basket before veiling the contents. She sprinted back to the Blue House while balancing the basket as not to let anything spill and avoiding suspicions. Students were the easiest, they had not an ounce of care compared to fellow servants who might be wondering why she was running and what was inside the basket.

By the time she arrived, Vincent, pale and breathing shallow, was still asleep and had broken out in another bout of cold sweat. He seemed to shiver in cold despite his body burning with fever. She took out a wring cloth she had dampened with cool water and began to wipe his forehead down to his chest to his legs to his feet, one resting upon his forehead where the heat seemed to concentrate. The human brain hated extreme temperature; if the body temperature rises, it used forehead as the main way of cooling off the blood before it reaches the encephalon hence making the forehead slightly hotter than the rest of the body.

“Vincent, wake up.” She slipped her arm between the curve of his neck and the emerging rounding of his head, gently ushering him up from the bed and placed the brim of the glass cup to his lip.

His eyes fluttered open, ever so faintly enough for her to see the haziness and confusion reflecting.

“Water – you have to drink or you’re going to be dehydrated.” Julia said in a quiet tone, “Open up your mouth.”

Slowly, his dry lips parted slightly enough for the water to trickle down into his throat and drank it readily. She refilled the cup as he quickly gulped that down as well.

“More..” He asked and she gave what he asked until the jar was empty.

“Do you think you can eat?” She took out the plate of soup and a spoon and set it upon the bedside cabinet.

He nodded weakly, attempting to sit up.

“Wait, let me…” Julia stacked the pillow vertically against the headboard to soften the hardness against his back. Vincent propped up on the elbow, generating momentum to heave himself up.

Julia scooped a small amount of chicken and broth, holding it up for him to eat.

“I can eat them by myself.” He pointedly said, taking the spoon from her hand and the plate onto his lap.

They stayed, unspeaking and unmoving, as Vincent finished the soup.

“I thought I told you to go away.” He filled the silence.

“I thought you’d die if I did.” She truthfully revealed. Vincent froze his spoon mid-air, lips parted, recovered, took the last sip in smooth, segued movement. She noted his sudden, uncharacteristic action and she would have missed it were it not for her fixed rivet on him.

“What if I did?”

“Um…that would be tragic.” Julia raised her brows in surprise at his almost nonchalance attitude toward his own life.

Vincent gingerly dabbed the silk handkerchief at his lips, “It’s strange to hear that.” He gave her a lopsided smile, “I..don’t necessarily mind that.”

Frown replaced her surprise. “What makes you say that?”

“If I die, 99 people out of 100 will be happy about it.”

She stared at him, blinking; troubled by his insouciance. It was as though he was describing the rules to a board game to her.

“Who cares about the 99 people?” Julia later remarked with a head-tilt, “I’ll be that one person.”

Vincent regarded her with raised brows, perplexed.

“As long as the price is right.” Julia added with a smug.

Vincent lifted a corner of his mouth in a smirk, amused. “Where did you get that attire?” He asked, jerking his head toward her servant’s dress.

“Helga got it for me.”

“Helga?” His eyes narrowed, frowning marring his sickly face.

“The servant you, apparently, get my breakfast from.” Julia rolled her eyes, just as expected he hadn’t bothered to learn the servant’s name.

“Ah..I take it that she knows you’re a girl then.” He intoned.

“Yeah, but I don’t think you need to worry about her telling others that I’m a girl.” Julia assured.

“No, not when I’m paying for her discretion.” He revealed for the first time, knowledge unbeknownst to her until now.

“You are?”

“Just as you said – as long as the price is right.” He iterated.

“Sounds like something you’d do.” Julia muttered with a smile before stretching out her hand to feel his forehead. The fever had slightly gone down although it was still warmer. Vincent’s eyes closed, nuzzling into her palm, to the radiating cold he desperately sought.

“This is your fault, you know.”

“I know.” Julia bit her lip in guilt, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to have you sick.”

“I often suffered from cold because of Frances.” Vincent told, his eyes remaining shut, “When we were child, she’d often kick me into the pond.”

Julia snorted at the imaginary; five year old Vincent all soaked, mouthful of muddy creek water while crying for his mummy as his sister looked on proud with mischievous glint in her eyes and roaring with laughter. Or maybe, even at such young age, he was already grown up looking at Frances, dead serious and not giving her the satisfaction instead chastising her for her ‘unlady-like and childish behaviour’ ‘I shall report this matter to mother.’ She could imagine him say. _Sounds like a typical brother-sister relationship_. “You know, one day, I really need to meet your sister because she sounds like the type of girl I’d want to be best friend with.”

“I fear only Lord knows what trouble the two of you would stir.” Vincent agreed with a chuckle, “She’d like you. Although I fear your little regards for social restraints and infraction of rules would not sit too well with her.”

Julia hummed thoughtfully, “Well it’s not like she can kick me into the pond or something, nothing a girl’s night out won’t solve.”

“I suggest not underestimating my sister,” Vincent playfully warned, “She’s an excellent swordsman than me. Or any men for that matter.”

“She’s not going to take out her sword because she doesn’t like me.” Julia huffed nervously, “That’s illegal.”

Vincent shrugged, “Who knows..she can be temperamental.”

It soon occurred to her he was teasing her, prodding and relishing in her reactions. Convivial countenance has replaced the more familiar expression of dour; the liveliness rather suited him, intensifying his child-like smile and boyish features. She swore she saw streak mischief in his eyes but it was gone as fast as it’s appeared.

“Hey, you should wash while I change your bed sheet.” Julia suggested and pulled out the spare set she had brought.

“You can change bed sheets?”

Julia grimaced at the absurdity of the question and the naïve, impressed tone in his tone as if she had said to him that she was able to calculate the rocket capsules landing coordinates or something along the line of genius discovery.

“Oh my God, please don’t tell me you don’t know how to change bed sheets.”

“I never learned.”

“And you know Latin?” Julia gasped, “I know you’re a sheltered noble boy and everything but come on, I might not know how to work washing machine but even I know how to change the sheets.”

Registering the ridicule in her voice, Vincent glowered at her insult, offended, “It’s an improper decorum for someone of my standing to do a servant’s work.”

 “It’s easy; I’ll show how to do it.”

“What would be the point of learning?” His frown deepened, marring his impish expression. “I’m sick.”

“Just help me a bit; it’s good skill to have(!)” Julia shook her head in exasperation, gesturing him to move

Vincent stood by her as she removed the pillow and duvet aside, discarding the used fitted sheet and replacing them with the fresh one. She changed the pillow case first. Next, she pulled the sheet over the two top corners of the bed then pulling and smoothing down the other, holding the sheet over one bottom corner and then the other before tucking it into the bottom of the mattress, just above the foundation.

Discarding the used cover, she took the top corners of the comforter and reached inside the fresh cover, grabbing two matching corners. Julia guided Vincent to hold up the other side, shaking until the comforter was fully covered and the bottom corners aligned. 

“Done!” Julia grinned in satisfaction, “See, it doesn’t take more than five minutes.”

“Ah.”

“You can go and take your showers now.” She said, “I think I’ll get going.”

“I’ll bring your di–“ Vincent turned in alarm toward the door, faint murmur of voices and rumble of footsteps from the outside the door could be heard, jostling up the stairs as it rose in volume. He jerked his head toward Julia, whose eyes had widened, trembling with trepidation.

“Wait, I’m a servant..I don’t need to–“

“Get inside the bed, now.” Vincent demanded, advancing toward her with conviction and urgency she never seen in him before. He gripped her arm, tugging her down with him and yanking up the cover above her head just as the doors burst open.

“Vincent!” She heard someone call with familiarity. Maybe it was his friend?

“Alexis.” Vincent greeted warmly. It was against the rules to address each other by first names but the rule was rarely adhered to in the privy of their rooms without presence of professors.

Coiling herself in foetus position on Vincent’s side; half her body burrowing under his legs, burying her face into the side of his abdomen, his hand tangled in her hair, tickling her nose her nose. Carefully drew her bottom fabric to her knee, fearing it could be seen sticking out in the corner, she held her breath. Thank god she managed to hide the basket and discarded sheets under small bed-space.

“I hear you’re sick.” The boy she came to known as Alexis worriedly said, “How are you feeling?”

“I’m feeling much better.” He said, “Thanks for visiting.”

Alexis approached closer, holding out a note for Vincent, “Notes for classes you missed.”

“Thank you.”

“Get better soon, Vincent.” Said another student prompting other well wishes were from other students in the room.

 _Well, he’s popular._ She thought in surprise. With that precocious-I’m-too-mature-for-your-bs attitude, she’d think he belonged in book-club-is-life kinda group.

“Oi mole!” Julia flinched, her breath hitched as she recognised that lofty, hubristic voice. She noticed his whole body seemed to stiffen up and hand curling into a fist.  

“What pleasure do I owe your visit, Diedrich?”

“The rumours have it that you’re a door away from death.”

“From a mere cold?” She could hear the eye-roll in his voice, “If you’re here to deride me, leave me in peace. I’m ill and I’m in no mood to entertain you today.”

“Diedrich,” Alexis aspirated, seemingly frustrated at always being caught in their one-sided cross-fire, “Leave him be! Everyone, enough visits.”

“What? I’m just here to make sure he’s actually sick and not truanting,” Diedrich defended, “Catching a cold in summer? Went for a night swim in the lake or something?” He taunted.

 _How childish.._ Julia shook her head inwardly, biting her lip from clicking her tongue at the nursery squabble.

 _Tell them to fuck off!_ Julia gritted, pinching his fist with her long nails.

“Tsk!” He hissed, snatching up his arm from inside the cover and kicked one of her leg beneath his in retaliation. Diedrich’s eyes narrowed sharply.

“Are you alright?” Alexis asked in worry.

“I’m fine,” Vincent convinced, “I thank you all for coming but I must rest.”

“Of course,” Alexis nodded, glancing over his shoulders to others, “Let’s come back another day and leave Vincent to recover.”

Turning back to Vincent, “I’ll see you when you get better.”

Vincent nodded with a smile, “Thank you.”

Julia waited until she heard the door click shut and Vincent peeled down the blanket from her head.

“Well aren’t you popular Mr. I’m-friends-with-everyone.” Julia grinned.

Vincent let out a chuckle, “They are not friends; they are acquaintances with mutual arrangements whom will assist me once I’m of age to take over my family affair.”

“So you don’t have friends?” Julia tilted her head in concern.

He regarded her with a note of levity as though he found it funny how she seemed troubled by something he found it trifling, “They do not see me as friends either, Julia.” He revealed to her in rare incidence of addressing her by her given name, “It’s a matter of courtesy that I should not be greedy for more than what it is.”

“How about that guy?” Julia asked, “Alexis?”

“He seemed to think of me as friend.” He commented.

“So you do have friend!” Then added with enthusiasm, “And let’s not forget me!”

A small smile curved his mouth; it should have lit up his face and dispelled the weariness hidden in his eyes but there was nothing but bitterness. Maybe it was because he was sick. That may be why. Else, why would he have such wretched look on his face?

Exhaling heavily, he slumped onto his side of the bed, eyeing ceiling numbly. Julia took in his side profile, unable to help but admire and envy his delicate, almost feminine features that composed his aristocratic face. How unfair that the guy had dark, long thick lashes when she had to resort to fake ones to get the same effect. Or that Greek nose she’d kill for. And his full lips.

 _God…you can be such a…unfair person._ Julia lamented. Why was it God decided to make her look like Miss Trunchbull?

“How are you feeling?” ‘ _What are you thinking right now?’_ Was what she actually wanted to say.

He rolled to the side, facing her, his dark blue eyes against her dull, dark brown, “Bearable. The fever has gone down; taking few more hours of rest would suffice. I’ll deliver your dinner at seven.”

“Do you want to have dinner with me?” Julia asked, “Since I’m in the servant dress, I’ll get them from Helga and you can come to the barn.”

For a moment, Vincent blinked up to her, unprepared to respond at her abrupt but surprising proposal. Then a faint smile touched his mouth. This time, a happy one. “I’d be delighted.”

Grin stretched across her lips and she quickly went about her way in preparation for tonight’s special dinner.

* * *

Covering the haystack with the table cloth, Julia took out their foods and bread basket, arranging them on the plate presentably in a way she knew Vincent would like. She wasn’t sure what time it was, but she knew it was about seven since she left the kitchen around 18.50. There was a knock on the door and Vincent walked straight in without waiting for her reply. Julia carefully scanned his face; the unhealthy chalky pallor was replaced with his usual fair skin and his dark eyes regained their usual gravity.

“You look okay.” She commented as he approached her to their makeshift table.

“I told you; few more hours of rest would suffice.” He echoed and sat across her. Julia handed him his cutlery wrapped in napkin. He waited expectedly for a minute as though she had to allow him.

“You first.” He said curtly, earning a puzzled look.

Vincent blinked, confused then again but this time in realisation as to why Julia looked at him expectedly.

“I apologise, I was waiting for you to unfold your napkin first before I could do so.”

Julia ‘ahhed’ in understanding, “Well, okay…” She snapped the napkin open and placed it in her lap. Soon, Vincent followed the suit albeit more elegantly and tastefully, unrolling the cloth in one smooth motion without harsh snap or shaking like she had. 

 _And to think I got a look of disgust when I ate a pizza with knife and fork._ Julia inwardly thought to her friends. _They clearly haven’t seen these kids._

“Do you pray too?” Julia intoned, tinted with half-hearted sarcasm.

“Are you not religious?” She could sense he only asked to confirm his assumption rather than as a question.

 “Well, basically…” Julia started, “You know how all my family is like from everywhere, they thought it’s best to exclude the religion from the family stuff. But we can pray if you want.”

Vincent made a brisk sign of the cross and reached for the bread in the basket.

“Where’s the butter knife?”

Julia froze, “There’s such thing as butter knife?”

He cleared his throat, wordlessly using his meat knife to cut into the knob of butter.

“Are you going to wear that coat while eating?”

“Should I take it off?” He asked as though he was surprised by her suggestion. Putting the bread and knife down, he shook off his tailcoat, neatly folding it in half beside him.

They ate in silence and Julia furtively examined the way he never let his elbow touch the ‘table’ or his back never hunching and his head never bowing toward the food, everything she was doing and horribly failing to not do so. He cut the meat in small, graceful pieces, closed lips nimbly moving as he chewed, his fingers lightly and gently gripping and pressing without scratching against the fine china plate. It was the simple elegance one had to be born into and one someone like her would never be able to perform it quite innately so.

“Tell me,” He began, gazing up to her, “Why have you been arrested?”

“It wasn’t just me, you know,” Julia defended, “It was the whole building. Some crazy guy –turned out he was growing drugs in his room – not your everyday drug like heroin or cocaine, he was growing opium! Do you know how rare that shit is in my world? So someone tips the guy that the police are going to raid in so in panic he decided to smoke all the opium he has, filling the whole building with its smoke and a lot of people got high that day. Police comes and, mind you I was high as fuck, my first reaction seeing the police and police dogs is just to run so they start chasing me. I don’t remember anything after that, I woke up in the jail cell with bunch of other students and according to the police, I climbed out of the window, suddenly stops and sit on the bench in the building’s garden and told the police, ‘Good evening, officers, I think they went that way.’ So they tackled me down and had me arrested.”

“Your life is certainly adventurous.” He commented dryly.

“I was just a victim in all this.” Julia insisted, “So that’s the story why I was arrested. But I wasn’t charged and they let me go so everything’s fine.”

“Is..it common?” He ventured, “It sounds like the society has become morally bankrupt.”

“Well…it’s complicating. All that is more common and frequent in my world-it’s hard to explain without you actually experiencing my world.” Julia shrugged before the pair focused on eating.

“Uh.. what’s the deal with Diedrich?” Julia decided to ask, “Why are you guys’ enemies in the first place?”

“He’s German, I’m English.” He jested, “That alone would make us natural enemies.”

 _Oh…yeah world wars…_ She thought painfully, wars that would wipe out millions and millions of innocent lives to come.

“Also, the four houses are competitive and harbour a strong dislike for one another..you can say it was predestined.”

“Well, to me it sounds like you don’t hate him that much.” She noted, “You’re only encouraging him.”

He smirked, gingerly chewing his meat and swallowed. “Well I’ve always wanted a German dog.”

Julia’s eyes widened, breaking out into laughter, “German dog?”

“The loyalist breed you could get.”

“Well then I’m a mutt.” She giggled, alluding to her multiracial roots.

He howled, unable to contain his amusement catching her off guard. She didn’t think he’d react such way, maybe there was some sort of inner joke that she ignorantly touched upon, “They say each mutt is truly unique compared to a purebred that tends to be predictable in looks and temperament…how right they were.”

Julia straightened her posture, proud and smug, “I think mutts are so much better.”

“I never had a mutt before.”

“So much better than German purebreds I bet.”

“I’m curious,” He admitted, “A German dog and a mutt.”

“I never had an English purebred before.” Julia fiercely returned, “Only cats.”

“Dogs are so much better, I assure you.” He persuaded.

“I don’t know…they seems more..picky.”

“Dogs temperaments are so much more agreeable than cats.” He insisted. “How will you ever find out if you do not try?”

“We’ll have to see.” Julia took the last bite of her meat.

“It’ll be worth your while.” Vincent said, eyeing her with half lidded eyes, “I promise you.”

 

 


	6. My Way

 

Ok. She wanted to pummel something. Or someone.

Maybe cry for four hours straight. Rest. Then repeat.

It had been already over three months ever since she landed back in time. Three months of being imprisoned in this 36 feet wide and 50 feet long barn in the centre of private boys’ school, in the 19th century London. Three months without an answer as to how it was even remotely scientifically possible to travel back in time. It was too real to be a dream yet too improbable to be true.

_I am surrounded by guys. I can’t change my clothes without having to fear eyes._ _N_ _ot once have I taken bath without being afraid. For every moment of my life in this savage place, I have to fear of being found out_ _._

Her only friend was Helga, a sarcastic kitchen maid, Clare, another fellow kitchen maid and Vincent, your typical rich boy who didn’t know how to change his own bed sheet.  

Julia found her breakfast basket outside her door and no Vincent in sight, which usually meant he was busy for the whole day with his upcoming tests right before the summer holiday. It had been few weeks since she seldom saw him, and remembered how shock she had been when she found out he had fifteen tests due in one month. She had been the one who suggested he stop bringing her food as she found it was easier to navigate the school as a servant and can get her food from Helga but she’d always find her breakfast waiting by the door like clockwork every day.

She’d eat her breakfast alone before dressing in her servant garbs and head out for her day, silently slipping into the group of busy servants in the large kitchen, preparing for lunch. Helga was the one who usually told her what to do, retrieving ingredients from the pantry, cutting and chopping, washing and cleaning. It was hard work, Julia grimaced as she lifted the heavy stock pot onto the gas hob, but it was better than doing nothing all day stuck in the barn. At least here, she can talk to others and walk around freely as much as her position allowed.

“Where’s Clare?” Julia asked Helga, noting her absence. The petite seventeen year old girl with large, round dark eyes and babyish face had been another kitchen maid she had befriended over the last three months and it was her diligence that earned Julia’s respect.

“She was dismissed.”

Julia felt her jaw slack open in shock, eyes widened at the news of her dismissal, “W-wait? What? She was fired?”

“No, no, she was dismissed.” Helga reiterated with a frown, the modern jargon completely lost to her.

“W-why?” Her face fell in despondent. Why? She was a hard worker. Clare was never late, never made any mistakes and people liked her.

Helga’s lips remained closed for a long time until rest of the servants went away and they had finish preparing and the foods sent to the dining hall. Julia had been washing the dishes when Helga returned with a heavy bag of flour in her arms and decided to answer her question.

“She’s pregnant.”

“Huh?” Julia gasped, nearly dropping the dish in her hands in shock before her voice regained its volume, slowly ascending with anger, “They dismissed her because she was pregnant?! Why would they dismiss her for that?!”

“Servants aren’t allowed to have relationships while we’re employed here. At least not openly. But she foolishly didn’t protect herself, that girl.”

Julia stifled an urge to shout out a string of modern swear words and kick up a fuss then thought better with pursing of her lips before forming another question, “Who’s the father? Henry? James? William?” Those three servants, who was close to Clare’s age and were seen with her often was the most viable candidates.

“…One of the students.”

“W-what?” She sputtered, “You mean it’s not one of the servants?”

“No. It was one of the sons of noble.” Helga muttered, dropping the bag loudly on the kitchen island in wordless vent of frustrations.

Her frown deepened, “Does he know? The father I mean.”

“Whether he knows or not, he won’t care for a mere bastard in some kitchen maid’s stomach.” She said.

Julia stilled, buried memories of their past trivial conversation slowly emerging in disconnected pieces.

_“I’ve met someone.” Clare said with that schmaltzy smile and sporting blush like the virgin bride on the wedding night. A lowly country maid, Clare went into service aged seven and came to London to live a brutal life on the bottom rung of servitude, spending 16-hour days as a maid-of-all-work in grand houses before she obtained employment at the school._

_Julia recognised that look in her eyes, the honeymoon type of love where the whole world could fall apart and nothing could tear her away from him; where the central gravity revolved around him. That love was the most dangerous and the sweetest and Julia couldn’t help but worry for Clare. Yes, Clare was hardened by the harsh world she was born into but she was still seventeen year old girl who lacked that necessary hard wisdom and experience when it came to love._

_“Who is it?” Julia attempted to venture. She was one of the youngest maids employed and Julia couldn’t help but feel some sort of maternal protectiveness over her._

_Clare’s eyes darted back and forth the empty kitchen, biting her bottom lip, “I can’t tell you but…he’s a great gentleman. He’s so gentle and kind and he often gives me money for me to buy what I want.”_

_“That’s nice.” Julia smiled in relief._

_“We’re planning to get married, you see,” The smile on her face spread into a big grin, “Once I save up some money and he gets his parents approval, I’ll be a lady.”_

Julia clenched her eyes shut, she was such an idiot! How couldn’t she pick up the obvious hints?! Granted, she didn’t know gentleman and being a lady actually was a term suggesting one’s social position and not a simple vocabulary for certain quality of woman and a man.

“Fuck Clare, out of all men she could go for, she goes for one of those posh fuck boys?!” Julia wasn’t so oblivious, especially in this era, that a relationship between a poor girl and a rich boy wasn’t the ‘Cinderella story’ so many girls fantasised and wished for and this was the same case for the modern world. In fiction, the understanding housekeeper is quick to intervene and, in short order, the heroine’s future is secure to everyone’s satisfaction. In reality, the relationship was doomed from the start and it could only end in very little ways, all of which would result in greater loss from the woman’s side. Becoming pregnant with a bastard and kicked out of your job with no references and little prospects because of your sex and now an unborn child into the mix was the worst scenario it could have betided. And Julia doubted the era was so kind as to offer some legal ramification for the woman that could pave for some sort of pension for their livelihood.

“When did this all happen?!”

“Yesterday night. The Housekeeper wanted to resolve this quietly as to avoid the scandal it might cause. Clare left that very night.”

“D-Did they give her some money at least?”

“They gave her the pay she’s owed to but nothing more. She’s lucky, not many would bother paying us when something like this happens.”

“Where did Clare said she’d go?”

“She didn’t.” Helga exhaled heavily from her nose.

Clare was out there in street of London, all on her own with a child in her belly.

“Where would a pregnant, jobless girl would usually go?”

“Factories, maybe, apply for a seamstress.” Helga revealed, “If she knows what’s good for her, she’d get rid of it before it shows.”

_I’m gonna cut of the dick of whoever that fuck boy is._

* * *

She found Vincent in the library by the table furthest at the back, his face scrunched with concentration and lips tightly thinned. He usually made those expressions when something irritated or troubled him but didn’t want others to know. It was as though any gestures that could tip off his true emotions were something that must be quelled. His thumb and middle fingers were in friction against one another, probably some sort of subtle physical outlet he could concentrate all his turmoil into without attracting attention or being noticed – a semi-unconscious habit he probably developed over the years. While other tables consisted of few small groups of friends studying with each other, he was alone and mostly hidden away from his circles by the tall book shelves lined in rows as she cautiously ventured down the large hall in pretence of cleaning the dusts and organising the carelessly misplaced tomes.

He didn’t bother looking up even when she stood in front of him.

“Vincent,” She hissed, occasionally glancing over her shoulders.

His head shot up, eyes wide and blazing, “Wh-?” His eyes then travelled down her face to the servant dress she was wearing, mouth agape. Jerking his head to and fro, he returned his attention to her when he was satisfied they were not seen and out of others’ earshot.

“What are you doing here?!” Vincent gritted out harshly, “Are you insane? Others can see you!”

“I know, I know,” Julia muttered apologetically, “I’m really really sorry I know you’re busy with your tests and I don’t wanna be a distracting bitch, but I just need your help. Please, just help me out once.”

He must have seen her panic stricken expression, the stern displeasure countenance slightly softening as he asked mildly, “What is it that you need?”

“Uh, something happened and I need some money.” She said, “I’ll pay you back later.”

Vincent’s upturned brows dug into his skin, his pressed lips widening, “Money? What do you need for?”

“Look, I don’t really have time to explain-can’t I tell you later when things calm down?” Julia pleaded, “It’s not something you’d get in trouble for-it won’t come back to you promise.”

He regarded her for a moment, expression indecipherable before standing from the chair, “My wallet is in my room. Wait a few minutes.”

“Thank you.” Julia said, “For trusting me.”

“Consider it my payment for the favours you’ve done.” He stated, almost dismissive of her assumption.

Julia sighed in relief as Vincent disappeared from the library door, awkwardly standing by the table as many students seemed to have gone away whilst they were too immersed in the conversation. She walked to where Vincent had left his bag and sets of books stacked on top of each other, divided into two files on the opposite side with his empty seat in the centre and a thick book and paper in front. He seemed to have been studying for science, recognising the symbols and terms as she skimmed through them.

All questions were filled out and explained for except the one he had circled.

_Calculate the enthalpy for the following reaction:N2(g)+2O2(g) – > 2NO2(g) <lHo=???kJ _

_Using the following two equations:_

_N2(g)+O2(g) – > 2NO(g) <lHo= +180kJ_

_2NO2(g) – >2NO(g)+O2(g) <lHo= +112kJ_

_Hess’s Law?_ She recognised. It was a simple and easy question to someone who had the basic understanding of the enthalpy change calculations but this was too much for a fourteen year old to grasp.

“Hmmm…”

Ten minutes have passed and Vincent came back with his wallet, holding out four fifty pounds notes. At first, Julia mistakenly thought it was some sort of toy money with their odd larger sized paper that resembled more of a certificate than an actual authentic paper money she was used to in her modern time, his blank face revealing nothing that may suggest it was anything but sincere.

“Thank you.” She expressed with a smile before adding, “Not to be rude but is it considered a lot in this time?”

“Depends on the type of trouble you’re referring to.”

“Well, would it be considered a lot generally?”

“It is a comfortable amount that would be lasting.” He said, “Unless it’s for a wager.”

“Thank you.” Julia said once again before scurrying out of the room.

Vincent let out a deep breath he was holding in, throwing the wallet onto the table as he wondered if she was worth the trouble he certainly will face in the future. The pen rolled to the edge of the table, stopping in its track against his finger causing Vincent to glance down-

It was the large, messy, almost indistinct, linear penmanship amongst his own cursive, connected letters on question eleven that caught his attention:

_N2(g)+O2(g) – >2NO(g) <lHo = +180kJ_

_2NO(g)+O2(g) – >2NO2(g) <lHo -112kJ_

_N2(g)+O2(g) – >2NO(g) <lHo= +180kJ_

_\+ 2NO(g)+O2(g) – >2NO2(g) <lHo = -112kJ_

_= N2(g)+2O2(g) – >2NO2(g) <lHo =+ **68kJ**_

* _Reverse at least one equation. In this instance, it turns out that the second one will require reversal. Change the sign on the enthalpy from positive to negative then add the two equations together and eliminate identical items. Add the two enthalpies together: N2(g)+2O2(g) – > 2NO2(g) <lHo = **+68kJ**_

* * *

Julia headed back to the kitchen with the two hundred pounds in her pocket. Now, she has to find out a way to get out of here. Sebastian Rolls-Royce would be hard to use in this situation so a maid will have to do.

“Helga!” She called, lurching through the doors with a hopeful look in her face.

Helga had been in midst of washing the dishes when she turned to the call of her name.

“I’m going to go find her.”

“Who?” Helga frowned before her brows slowly rose to her hairline, “Clare?!”

Julia nodded, “She’s just 17 – I can’t just abandon her like that.”

“You don’t know where she’d be by now.”

“Still…I can’t just leave her out there.”

“There are thousands of girls like her. She was foolish thinking a noble would marry her.” Helga coldly reprimanded, “You can’t help every single one.”

“I’m not a saint – I don’t intend to help every poor people I come across.” Julia said, “It’s a bit unfair that she loses everything while that noble boy she fucked doesn’t.”

Helga was quiet for a while, staring out the window before revealing, “She told me she was going to Madame Restell in Whitechapel.”

“Madame Restell?”

“She’s..known for safe and immediate removal of irregularities in females..” The underlying comment of ‘Clare intended to have an abortion’ was unspoken but clear even with the euphemism.

“Do you know how I can get out of here?”

Helga wiped her wet hands on her apron, “I’m needed to go out and purchase some ingredients. You can accompany me.”

* * *

The Whitechapel was steeped in poverty and all manner of crime and disease. It was the place of darkness where human vermin lived and the streets were lined with the starving destitute of the drab and dark capital, drowned with filth and reeking sink that seemed more pungent and noxious than the exhalations from the sewage. Black and noisome, the dirty road sticky with slime; ugly, palsied houses, rotten from chimney to cellar, leaning together by the coherence of their ingrained indigence. The inhabitants reminded her of ghosts- an empty shell, not dead yet barely alive and surviving, dark, silent, uneasy shadows passing and crossing; their gazes hazed, hollow and empty. What truly frightened her were the young children’s’ sunken, black-rimmed eyes, whose pallid face emerged and merged by the light of occasional gas lamps bordered on the curb. Children and women were huddled together in the foggy dark alley on the dirty ground, barefooted, with only muddy, grimy blanket riddled with holes to protect them from harsh exposure and Julia was sure the baby in one of the woman’s arm wasn’t breathing at all. She imagined Clare’s face on one of those women and it wasn’t how she wanted a seventeen year old – or anyone for that matter – to end up so resentfully deprived while the ‘great’ and ‘lucky’ patrician slept in his comfortable, large bed and dined on caviar canapé. She shuddered to think she would have been amongst them if not for Vincent and thank God – or whoever

So this was the ‘darkest London’, a terra incognita for ‘respectable citizens’ who snubbed their noses from the miasma and their plight all the while sipping the premium, pressed down tea on a fine, imported china as they chatted on the great problem plaguing the Great Empire that was Britain. Well, changes didn’t happen in tea parties; it happened when you go out to the real world and did something.

“It’s a horrible sight, isn’t it?” The voice was smooth, vibrating baritone timbre carried with an almost mild, upbeat in tone.

Julia and Helga started from the man who seemed to have snuck his way behind them with stealth of a leopard. Julia found the man’s appearance odd, even for this era she supposed by the way Helga’s usual impassive expression broke slightly. With long grey hair that reached his back and a single braid adorning his right side, his eyes and half of his upper face was hidden by the parting bangs pressed further down by long top hat. His robe was predominantly black in a resemble that reminded her of a funeral. Amongst these living dead, he was like the reaper that had come to collect the ripen souls.

“Uh…yeah…” Julia drawled out unsurely, “Who the hell are you?”

“Ah, forgive me, introduction first,” He smiled playfully, “You can call me Undertaker.”

“That can’t possibly be your real name.”

“Oh, my real name is boring and of no importance.” He shrugged, “What is the two lovely ladies doing in this hell?”

Julia and Helga shared a glance, should they tell this seemingly mad man the truth? Or should they distract him into go away.

After a few moments, Julia spoke up, “We’re looking for Madame Wrestle.”

“Madame Restell.” Helga corrected.

“Madame Restell.” Julia rectified.

“Ahh…” He hummed in recognition, “Madame Death.”

Julia reckoned that the woman was an infamous figure in this place and he didn’t seemed surprise at all by the asking, rather he scanned her as though he was looking for something on her. Or within her.

No one sought Madame Death for simple things.

“It’s my friend, Clare, she’s pregnant and last I heard she was looking for Madame Restell and I was wondering if you perhaps have seen my friend.”

“My child, Madame Death is a popular woman and there are many young women like your friend Clare that searches for her and she won’t be the last. Madame Death resides at Thrawl Street, across the lodging house.”

“Thank you.” Julia nodded, pulling Helga along toward the direction Undertaker’s finger was pointing.

“I hope you find your friend, Julia.” Undertaker waved goodbye, watching the two hurry along with the basket full of fresh groceries, “Keep Vincent safe won’t you? Spare the Phantomhive from futile tragedy.”

* * *

Madame Restell was a very busy woman. She would be flocked with more than thirty women in a day when the business was good and never less than ten when it was slow. Herbs were her specialty, whether it was for protection or prevention or purging a burden. It was not always guaranteed that the foetus would die; some were just too stubborn, too tenacious, gritting whatever strength and bones and flesh they had to survive the full term as though it wanted to live. The mother’s life cannot be guaranteed either. Those were the first thing she would say to anyone that walked through the door. Yet, they seemed all too willing to gamble with Death for greater gains should they survive even if their reputation might suffer. To some, losing to Death was better than losing their reputation. Her clientele was broad, from the poorest and lowest of scums to the crème de la crème, all sharing the same misfortune of bearing scandalous secrets.

She was doing them a great favour. In fact, she was the one delivering the salvation they truly needed. Not the churches’, not the prayer or the priest’s blessing. In front of her was another naïve, innocent girl, seduced by her master’s sweet words and promises, by his wealth and status, and ended up bearing a bastard in her stomach.

“Take these herbs every day, three times a day with meal until the desired result is achieved.” Was her brief prescription. “As for the sesame seeds, soak it in the water overnight and drink it the next morning every day.”

“It..will work definitely, right?” Her voice was timid and beaten. The girl would have been lovely to look at if it weren’t for her eyes that have lost its spark and face battered with heart break.

Before Madame Restell could respond, her doors burst open and a feisty figure intruded upon them.

“Clare!” Julia ran over to her, pulling her up from the chair. “Get up! I’m not letting you do this until you think this through thoroughly!”

“Julia?!” Clare’s eyes widened at the unexpected guest, “W-what are you doing here? How did you find me?”

“Your friend is right,” Madame Restell spoke up calmly, “However, your choices are limited and even if you keep it, no respectable employers would accept a maid with a bastard.”

“Julia, Madame Restell is right.” Clare said, dejected, “I-I was foolish to believe him and I do not want to raise a fatherless bastard; not when I don’t even have money to feed my own mouth. This is the only way.”

“Do you want to abort the baby?”

“I don’t have a choice–“

Julia took out the two hundred pounds from her pocket and onto Clare’s palm, curling her fingers to clench it, “Will this be enough to last you until the child is born and you can get a job again?”

Helga and Clare, even Madame Restell reacted with shock at the large amount of money on her palm. Simply because such amount of money was not something a mere servants could ever dream to make in their whole lifetime. Or even in the next one.

“..Julia…” Clare’s voice trembled, “W-where did you get this amount of money?”

 _Oh I guess this amount is a lot._ Julia thought, after all, two hundred in her world would probably be enough to buy few nights in a cheap hostel, discounting any necessities.

“Someone owes me few things.” Julia briefed, “Well, will this enough?”

“More than enough.” Helga muttered, “This is worth the three years of skilled tradesman’s wages.”

“Then you don’t need to kill the baby.” Julia said, having assumed this had been out of necessity rather than something she truly desired then added, “Unless, this is what you actually want then I won’t stop you. This is something only you can decide. It’s your body, your choice. You can still keep the money until you get a job.”

“The choice is yours’.” Madame Restell said, “Consider yourself lucky, not many get to have the privilege of a helpful friend. Or a choice”

Clare’s hands travelled down to her yet flat stomach, tears that had been swelling up in the corner of her eyes finally falling, a chocked sob escaping her lips.

No innocents should pay for the sins of an adult.

* * *

Leaned against the windowpane, his long leg crossed over his knee and dangling above the padded bench lined in tight four rows by each window in the room, Vincent glanced over his shoulder to the group of senior students below. One in particular stood out to him; Armistead Stuart, first borne and only child to Viscount Stuart and Viscountess Ashton. Most seniors, if not all, tended to indulge in brief trysts with the young, lovely maids that worked here for mere sexual gratification and he remembered seeing a blonde maid who was obviously fervently armoured with Stuart so much so Vincent couldn’t help but think perhaps she even loved him. Sincerely.

And it seemed she had.

If she hadn’t, she wouldn’t have kept a bastard all the while knowing the shame and persecution that followed.

“Julia gave her two hundred pound until she is able to settle.” Helga reported, hands collected in front of her reservedly, “And she is willing for ‘Sebastian Rolls-Royce’ to be put down as the child’s father.”

Vincent’s eyes slightly widened, jerking his head away from the glass, recovered and turned away from Helga back to facing his back to her.

“..She is willing to do that..for a servant?” Vincent frowned as he voiced his question with hesitance and uncertainty.

“It is not my place to judge but I have tried to convince her that it was not necessary to help the maid.”

“Why?” He muttered to himself, eyeing his perplexed reflection on the glass.

Two hundred pounds and a surname for a maid with a bastard in her belly, why would she make such an effort?

“She had asked me..if I can send out letters to the maid in her stead,” Helga approached, “..Would this be a problem, Sir?”

After a beat, Vincent answered, “..Have the letters go through me before it is sent. In the meantime, keep her in the kitchen. I do not want her attracting any attentions.”

“Sir..if I dare to ask, why do you not order her to stop parading around as a servant instead?”

He let out a breathy huff, not quite a snort before retorting, “Does she look like the type of woman who would stop when she is told to stop? I am aware of my limited influence over her.”

_After all, as loyal as mutts are, they’re fickle with whom they choose to obey._

Often, he’s reminded of a cat his sister owned when he was a young child. That small fur ball had been the embodiment of outsized arrogance and skittishness and a ruthless tormentor of his early years. That cat acted as if it were the head of the household and everything seemed to depend on their mood, from eating to wanting attention, and if he didn’t get what he wanted, he’d create a ruckus with that devilish glistening in its eyes. Vincent remembered quite clearly, with humiliating indignation, being bullied by that ghastly cat, demanding it to be thrown out after it dared to slap him with its paw for attempting to pat him in congenial effort to befriend the animal and often finding awake in his bed dead mice, insects and birds, from being completely intact to odiously mangled pieces. His sister had cried for two weeks after it had died, its throat crushed by a street dog. He asked his mother for a dog a week later.

 


	7. Fabricated Truth

 

On the morning of June 13, a small postcard and the gift of a card case arrived to his doorstep. A simple printed white Gardenias and ‘Many Happy Returns with All Our Affection’ written in bottom right corner extended above the picture. Vincent flipped the small card to the back where his mother had written a personal message for him in her elegant, cursive writing:

_Dear most beloved son,_

_Happy fourteenth birthday, Vince. As always, you refuse to come home to celebrate your birthday in favour of studying despite your poor mother’s most desperate plea each year. I terribly fear you favour your friends over me and your sister trapped in our lonely town house awaiting your returns. Come home, I miss you dearly._

_Love always,_

_Mother_

 

_Dear Vincent,_

_I am sure you fathom our mother’s most yearning for your presence and it displeases me greatly that you choose to ignore it. For whatever reason it may be, you are hesitant to visit us even on weekends. I am aware your studies are of great importance but do not be so cruel to mother. I shall drag you back home if I must. I will see you this weekend._

_Francis._

He could almost hear his sister’s biting, imposing tone that demanded one’s utmost obedience and as much as it was enduring and so familiar, he feared it may also be her downfall. Vincent worried for her debut to the society that won’t take so kindly to a headstrong, vocal female who was clearly more adept and intelligent than most men. It was moment such as this he felt great sorrow. Francis was too ahead of her time. He wanted to rip something.

Picking up his dip pen, he wrote a reply.

_To my beloved sister,_

_I know I have been neglecting you and mother and it was, in no way, my intention and there is nothing more than I desire than to spend time with you both. Please send a carriage on Friday._

_Love,_

_Vincey._

He didn’t usually pen his letter with his nickname and as much as it embarrassed him when Francis referred him with such, he was secretly fond of the endearment. It was his way of appeasing her, of yielding and acknowledge her authority when due and he had nothing but respect and adoration for her. For her strength. For her character.

* * *

The Friday came quickly and he boarded the carriage awaiting him beside Tanaka. Later that evening, a grand feast was served and grand seven tiered cakes took its place to the table as the evening’s centre piece. It was rare for their family to be together and even more rare to share a meal together with Claudia’s busy works for Her Majesty.

“How is college, Vincent?” Claudia asked, delicately cutting the cake slice into small bits with the dessert fork.

“Busy. I have five more exams left.” His eyes were downcast, unwilling to show the exhaustion that were already set upon him in lines despite knowing he could never hide anything from his mother.

“I don’t know why you are so concerned with studying when mother could care less about grades.” Francis commented grumbly, still sore at his cold response for the last month.

Their mother refused to hire a governess for Francis to be taught womanly subjects instead hiring a male tutor for both her children to be taught together from languages to science to sports although both excelled in all subjects, Francis had natural aptitude to sports; he preferred academics and Claudia made herself known that she wasn’t so particularly strict on him having spectacular grades in college rather it was something he decided to prove his worth.

“Unless there is something else other than your studies.” Claudia suspected with an elegant tilt of her head.

Vincent obliquely gazed down at his dark Scottish deerhound curled up beside his chair legs, lips upturning in weary smile, “I just wish to get through the exams, mother.”

“Then we should arrange another small party as celebration after your exam is over then.” The undertone that infringing questioning was not over was clear and he dreaded the upcoming days when he would not have a valid excuse to give a vague answer. Nothing went unnoticed by the Watchdog and especially not her own son. Hopefully, she would feel merciful in her interrogation.

“Mother, it’s an all-boys school, what fun would there be?”

Claudia gave her daughter a light chuckle, teacup in her hand as she raised it to her lip, quietly muttering, “You forget pretty maids.”

Her voice was airy, almost quiet as exhale of a breath but his sharp ears managed to catch her words and there was a brief stillness in his fork, halfway sliding down the soft sponge. He hoped his mother didn’t notice but she made no further comments, attentively listening to her daughter’s chatter.

“Vincent, come to my study after dinner. There is someone I would like to introduce you.”

He nodded and finished the rest of his cake, standing up to follow his mother upstairs while Francis watched their pair, apprehensively.

* * *

Vincent wasn’t quite sure what to say about the tall man standing in front of him. Nor what to have imagined when his mother said there was a man he needed to meet. It felt as though ever since the time travelling woman’s arrival, his life was heading to a very strange direction full of strange people and incidents.

Everything about this man seemed eldritch and eerie air surrounded him as though he was a man like no other. Almost like _her._ A sense that this man––like Julia, were from a world that was not his, so subtle in the language of their body and expressions, similar with his own yet so different and it could be from anything, a small deviations of their lips when they smile, the accent that suggested they were brought up in England with an edge that suggested something unique in their upbringing environment, the wordings suggesting unconventional knowledge.

It didn’t help his features and clothing only amplified that emanation. A tall, young and lean with long grey hair braided into a single cord on his right, glowing green eyes and black painted fingernails attired in funeral mute and five mourning lockets around his hip.

He slowly turned to his mother, bewildered look in his eyes, “Mother..?”

Was someone dead?

An undertaker?

This was the man she wanted him to meet? A mere funeral director.

“Vincent, I want you to meet Undertaker.”

Weary of his mother’s intention, he nonetheless struck out his right arm forward, fingers stretched and the man leaned in until––to his shock, cupped his cheeks into his palms, long sharp nails gently trilling down his skin as you would a cute baby.

“He’s grown so much since the last time I saw him.” Undertaker said to his mother, “Even though I have lived amongst humans for many years, I still have hard time grasping how fast they grow.”

“Or because you work with the dead all the time. Ever so unchanging.” Claudia chuckled, taking a seat on the head chair, “Stop teasing him, Undertaker, he does not like to be treated like a child.”

“So do you.” Undertaker let him go, retreating back to his seat across Vincent, “It seems he takes after you the most then. That’s fortunate.”

“It’s a blessing and a curse I suppose.”

“Mother,” Vincent found his voice, “May I ask what is going on?” ‘Why did this man pinched my cheeks and cooed at me like I was some baby’ was what he truly wanted to say but held it in.

“You’re fourteen now.” Claudia said taking a bite out of the bone shaped cookie from the bowl on the table, “I thought it would be a wonderful gift to introduce you to my trusted aide.”

 _Surely there must be a better aide than him._ Vincent inwardly thought, “Thank you, mother.”

“It seems he doesn’t remember me.” Undertaker commented with a hint of sadness in his voice.

“He was young,” Claudia consoled, “A baby. Have pity for us poor human memories.”

“I’m more hurt that you would keep me in the dark.” He playfully pouted.

Claudia grinned at him, “Or I wanted him to enjoy his childhood as long as he could.”

Vincent stood in silence, studying the pair’s interaction with shock. His mother certainly had her spirited side but this was the first time he ever saw her genuinely enjoying the banters with another and especially with someone, in society’s eyes, unsuited. The gentle smile and spark of her fiery, teasing glint in her eyes were not for anyone and it was then, Vincent understood, the Undertaker was a man of true and great importance to her.

“Vincent, sit.” Claudia motioned him and he realised how rude and comical it must have been to be the only one standing, eyes wide and jaw slightly slacked.

“He’s quite shy, isn’t he?”

“Cautious.” She corrected him, taking another bone shaped cookie. “Essential quality to have in our line of work.”

He espied at the way her body was more slanted toward the Undertaker as the Undertaker was to her in a way that would be disapproving; there was a sense of intimacy between them and impish looks shared in both their gazes. Vincent wondered what they meant to each other. What did his mother think of this man? And what did this man thought of his mother?

“Mother,” He interrupted, fully knowing it was impolite, “May I ask if this meeting is only an introduction to each other? If so, may I leave now that we have met?”

Claudia turned her body toward her son, “Vincent, I want you to trust me. And I trust this man therefore I would be grateful if you could extend that trust to him as well.”

“Of course, mother, if you have no objection, neither do I.”

His wordings must have been wrong, or at least, not as thought out as his mother would have liked because her gaze suddenly lost that lively spark and settled for a more melancholy ones, “Vincent, you are the next heir to an Earldom that, I am afraid, most burdening than any other responsibilities bestowed upon us. I need you to be––at the very least, fathom that weight. I want you to be safe.”

Arching his back straight, shoulders back and face confidently raised and meeting her gaze, “I know, mother. I will do my best. Undertaker, I leave myself to you.” _I wish there was a way to show you my dedication to appease your worry, mother._

Claudia’s countenance lost some of its sternness, “Should anything happen to me, go to him. Do not trust anyone. Trust no one but him. He will look after you, at least until you become strong enough.”

“I understand, mother.” He prayed nothing happened to his mother. That his mother would always be safe and sound, grow old and pass over this world peacefully. But being young and childishly naïve he was, he could only imagine the darkness that surrounded their name.

“Do not say such things, Claudia.” The man’s voice was timbre and smooth when they weren’t disguised by the playful, trebled cadence. It was interesting to see how quickly he shed those façade when it concerned his mother.

“Undertaker, what is your name?”

“My name, I am afraid, is somewhat of a secret only privy to very few.”

A knowing smile stretched across his mother’s lips.

“Vincent, you must be tired. Rest.”

“Goodnight, mother. Undertaker.” As the door to his mother’s study slowly closed, he glanced over his shoulder, his mother muttering something to Undertaker with an expression he couldn’t quite describe and the Undertaker’s hand reaching up although before he could see where those long fingers would land, the door shut with a reasonable click.

* * *

He was back in college, mind still reeling from the bizarre and eccentric weekend that he was having trouble focusing on his work and decided to close his books. Words seemed to avoid him and decided to head to the barn.  As it turned out, the woman’s laziness meant that often she would skip working in the kitchen and simply spend the day sleeping all day. She also felt relaxed enough to not latch the barn door closed, allowing him free rein to enter whenever he pleased. No sons of nobles would lower themselves to enter such place.

“Vincent?” He heard her say his name nervously despite his assurance no students will visit the place.

“It is I.”

“How was your weekend?”

That was what he wanted to talk and be rid of these confusing emotions.

“It was..the most odd.”

He could hear rustles, excited to hear more as he climbed up, abandoning his bag below.

She was dressed in the same oversized shirt and black trousers of some sort that clearly outlined the curves of her legs. He preferred this than the former.

“What happened?”

“Francis loved the sweet you gave.” Vincent decided to start with the mundane fact, “She asked me to get some more.”

“Well, I’m running out of them, I’ve only got like five more left.”

“That’s fine. She loves sweet more than me.”

“So you find it odd that your sister likes modern sweets?” She asked, knowing well that wasn’t what he truly wanted to say.

“I’ve met a man.”

“Congratulations. When’s the wedding?”

He was accustomed to her sense of humour by now but it still affected him enough to paint red hues in his cheeks in embarrassment, an exasperated sigh escaping his mouth.

“Your idea of humour is still provocative as ever.”

“Thank you. The day my humour becomes like Victorians, shake me violently.”

“I would do no such thing.”

“Maybe that German guy will if I dress up as Sebastian Rolls-Royce and allow him to catch me.”

“He’ll most likely take you to the headmaster, demanding your expulsion.”

“Hm, seems like the rough and tumble type.” Julia hummed then shook her head, back to the subject, “So you’ve met a man. Is he handsome?”

“That is not what I meant!”

“Okay,” Julia huffed, rolling her eyes, “Not superficial type. That’s a good. So is he nice?”

“He seems nice––in general sense,” Vincent emphasised, “Mother trust him.”

“Mother knows the best.” Julia repeated her mother’s mantra, “Except when it comes to technology and suddenly you become the expert tech guy when the wifi goes down.”

He learnt that it was best to ignore her modern jargons, previously when he decided to discuss it further, he was left with more questions and confusions than he would have liked in his daily life.

“I suspect my mother is preparing me to inherit the earldom soon. Introducing that man seems to be the intent.”

He watched as her expression shifted into a more serious look, how one could go from playful to resolute in a mere second was a puzzle to him.

“It’s too much of a burden for you to bear––at least now.”

He nodded.

“Did you tell that to your mum?”

“There is no other than my mother who understands the weight but she has no choice. I am the firstborn and a son, the decision is not up to me and even if I did have a say in this matter, it would be foolish to refuse my rightful position.”

Julia studied the little child intently before asking, “How old are you?” She never got to ask him.

“I turned fourteen on passing Tuesday.”

 “Right, fou––wait it was your birthday last Tuesday?”

“Yes.”

“How come you didn’t tell me?!” Her voice was slightly raised as if angered although he did not detect any.

“I thought it was of no importance.”

“It’s birthday! I would love it if we had birthweek than one day. You studied all day on your birthday?”

He didn’t answer.

She quickly brought him over for a hug, patting his shoulder, “Well, happy late birthday! Did you have a nice day with your mum and sister?”

“Yes.” His cheeks were tinted red.

“That’s good. At least you got few days away from all that. Um, back to the subject, what does an Earl really do?”

“We reign over a given land––collecting the taxes and fines from the populace, providing and attending to their needs and complaints as well as the right to judge in the courts of our provinces.” He said, rendering out the most sinister, secretive and arduous aspect of his lineage.

So a bit like monarchy then. She wasn’t sure if she could fill such a large role even at this age never mind a fourteen year old, despite the education and preparation from birth.

“That’s…too much. I don’t think an adult could successfully do that.”

“My mother does.” As well as juggling her Watchdog role which he understood was not always easy and most often, dangerous and hostile.

“Vincent,” Her gaze soften as it regarded him, “You are not your mum. You’re Vincent Phantomhive, a whole different person with your own personality and feelings. Just like no one can be your mum, you cannot be anyone but yourself. And spending the rest of your life trying to be someone else is the most saddest things. Who will be you? Life is short enough and it would be shame if the world misses out on knowing what kind of person Vincent Phantomhive is. You’re good enough and I’m sure as perfect as your mum seems to be, no one is really perfect.” He was still in state of frozen when she brought him back to her embrace. This time he didn’t protest and wounded his arms around her waist.

* * *

“Nobles really have a vulgar taste for pleasure, don’t they?” Claudia muttered, studying the limp young girl by her shoes, battered and bruised. Specks of blood decorated the walls like the harsh brush strokes of passionate artist; small shards of wine bottles and delicate china glistened on the red carpet, crunching under the sole of her boots and she couldn’t quite distinguish what was blood and what was the fabric dye.

The girl, she recognised, as Baron Percy’s third and youngest daughter, Adeline, styled in what was once an elegantly designed dress now nothing more than tattered rags. Her virtue remained intact, Claudia knew. Young heir of Duke Clemens seemed to receive no better pleasure than enacting gruesome violence on a helpless victim rather a more traditional bodily pleasure although he was not opposed to latter. His father took a blind eye to his son’s deviant ways and his mother was too fearful and despising of her mistake of a son and too enveloped on her illusion of perfect family that she preferred to spend most of her days attending soiree, arranging dinner parties and charitable balls. All his victims had either been brought orphans or maids––easily disposable pieces that didn’t require her succour.

“I cannot thank you enough for extending your assistance..with our problem.” Duke Clemens hurried over to her, closing the door quickly and wiping the collected perspiration on his creased forehead, “Oh, how rude of me, Lady Phantomhive, would you like some tea?”

“Yes, that would be lovely, Lord Arden.”

The maid brought the tray to the door, leaving it for Duke Clemens to reel inside the contained scene. The sofa hasn’t avoided the messily splattered blood and Duke Clemens offered his coat for her to sit upon it.

She lifted the cup to her lip, breathing in the rich aromas of roasted vegetables, sweet honey and wet stones. _Da Hong Pao._

“This is called Da Hong Pao exported all the way from China. Supposedly it is rare and only limited amounts are dispensed throughout the world. I take it that you would appreciate it more.”

“Thank you.” She nodded, “But may I ask, where is Luke?”

At the sound of his son’s name, his eyes darted toward Adeline and stiffened, “H-he is asleep in his quarter.”

“Physical exertion does tire you out quite quickly,” Claudia smiled, “Have the servant cook some food later. He will awake hungry.”

“O-of course.”

Sipping the rest of the tea and gently lowering the china onto the table, Claudia stood up, “I will take care of this mess. Rest assured.”

His shoulders visibly relaxed and gave her a small smile, “Thank you, Lady Phantomhive. I trust all will be well as always.”

In few hours, three men and women arrived into the room and began to tear down the room. The wall papers, ceiling, carpet, furniture. Bagging the woman in a separate black bag they carried the body out into the carriage.

“Bring me a kitchen knife. Plain one.” Claudia asked one of the maids and took the knife with her, tucked under her sleeve. They arrived at the East End and dumped the body in one of the alleyway. Claudia took out the knife and stabbed her through the abdomen, an empty flask to drain some of her blood. A female companion handed her a napkin to wipe her hand.

Then they entered an unsuspecting man’s home, a lowly butcher near where they have abandoned the body. An empty cup of water doused with chloral hydrate to put him in deep sleep was clattered on the table.

She slipped the knife into his hand, pouring some of the blood onto his hands, clothes and floor. The next day, Scotland Yard shattered open his door and arrested the murderer of a beloved Baron’s daughter and he is hung outside Horsemonger Lane Gaol to public outcry at his abominable crime the very next day.

Claudia attended the funeral with Vincent and Francis, donned in black, veils clouding her face. Her Majesty attended the touching ceremony; a heart-warming eulogy is read by the priest, celebrating her beautiful but brief life, a flower that was cut before it could bloom. The Baron and Baroness wept throughout and Her Majesty extended her condolences at the loss of a child for she was also a mother and knew there was no grief greater than the untimely death of a child.

“Your Majesty.” Claudia curtsied in greeting and the Queen acknowledged her with a nod.

“Thank you for all your work.”

“It was my duty.”

“I shall send over a fitting present for my gratitude.”

Claudia simply smiled. Undertaker was awfully quiet throughout the day.

* * *

Vincent scanned through the letter, Helga patiently waiting with a guilty countenance. The letter was written just as he expected, exactly as she spoke with her eccentric wordings and grammar. The content was simple; explaining her daily life and how things have been humdrum routine of work and sleeping, asking about her delicate condition and that she will soon visit her with more money. He enclosed the paper into the envelope and handed it back to Helga. There were no mention of him or anything in distant related to him. Although there was a very descriptive mentions of Armistead Stuart that had him flinch few times of her promise of pain and castration, even murder. Hopefully the poor maid took it in stride rather than in literal sense.

“Send it off.”

Helga nodded and egressed out of the room.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	8. Chapter VIII: The Summer Holiday

 

**Thank you guys for those who reviewed and alerted my story:)**

* * *

Time unmercifully ticked by and July was approaching. While Vincent seemed wholly unfazed by the mounting works and tests, she knew he was just as stressed as any students were in their exam season. Strangely, although she didn't mind and enjoyed his company as well as the amount of cakes and sweets he brought along, he began to use the barn to study rather than holing himself in the corner of library like he did before.

She didn't bother him and he didn't talk to her other than asking her help for certain questions he struggled – and if she didn't know, they worked together to figure it out; or, in rare time he decided to give himself a rest away from the books, initiated the conversation by asking her about her world or her life.

Today, she was showing him how a phone worked.

"Thank the battery lord that I always prepare an extra battery, charger and 100% charged phone." Julia jabbered excitedly as they were currently engrossed in one of the videos in her photos.

It was a video her friend in media department edited of their holiday to Ibiza, Sihanoukville coast, Machu Picchu, Salar de Uyuni, Labun Bajo, Komodo Islands, Rinca Island, Pink beach, Gili Laba, Mount Rinjani and skydiving over Victoria Falls to look like one of those expensive travel vlog they saw on social media. In reality, they took the cheapest routes they could find and backpacked most of their way to the next while showering once a fortnight and cleaning themselves with wet wipes. Not as glamorous as the videos looked but traveling has always been their dream that they spent three years part timing to save up the fund to go somewhere.

"I nearly died during skydiving but it was so beautiful."

"People in the modern time jumps out from the sky willingly, even with the possibility of death?" Vincent frowned in confusion, "And everyone is partially undressed. The flying metal bird, while ingenious, sounds outrageously dangerous and scientifically impossible…and this contraption of yours'..your world it's very..chaotic."

"Sure the idea of the plane – the proper name for flying metal bird – and phone seems impossible but so am I being in your time so let's never say never. And yes we throw ourselves out of the plane and we pay to do it."

Vincent, now knowing how touch screen worked and that flicking right would proceed to next picture or videos, gave an exasperated look before taking the phone from her and albeit with awkwardness with its handling, operated the phone with more ease than at the beginning.

See, even a 19th century Victorian person can get used to modern apparatus given enough time and gentle induction.

Julia took her attention to Vincent's book on chemistry and biology, comparing to modern knowledge she knew while occasionally checking the screen to see what he was seeing. He was still in her photos, swiping on various pictures and videos.

"Is this your family?"

She turned to look and it was indeed her family picture including her dad during Halloween where they decided to dress up as Addams family, looking all stern and fear-inducing with her dressed as Wednesday and her sister deciding to dress up as Amanda.

"Halloween costume, that's my mum, my dad and my sister, Kylie."

He left it at that and returned to more perusing.

"What is this picture supposed to be? You have many pictures like this." He held it up for her and found herself lost as how she could explain what it was.

"It's called memes."

Vincent raised a brow in silent plea for the explanation to be put into words he could comprehend.

"So, the picture is describing visually what the words on top of the picture are trying to say." Julia explained although she was losing him fast, "Like this picture shows a woman panicking and it said on top 'when you lose your mum at the grocery store' and it's suggesting no matter how old you are, when you go out with your mum to buy something and you get separated, you'll panic because she's the one that's paying for the shopping and stuff."

"So it is a self-expressive art?"

"Yes! You get it!"

He nodded then returned to the phone, probably thinking modern people have weird perception of arts.

After few minutes, his finger came to a pause on a certain picture, "Is he your lover?"

Julia immediately shut the book and snatched the phone from him to see what it was about the picture that made him say with confidence she and this man were involved romantically. Lo and behold arsehole #too-many-to-count with his arms wrapped around her waist and his face partially buried in her neck as she smiled up at the camera in a bar. Thought she deleted all those pictures but with 10,000 pictures and 300 videos at her disposal, she wasn't surprised she missed some of them.

Hitting the delete and watching the photo getting sucked into the trash bin icon, she handed it back, "Nope, ew, no, never, he's a fuckboi."

Vincent's frown deepened as she justified, "So fuckboy is slang for a player. Casanova. A special type of arsehole."

"So someone like Stuart?"

She clapped excitedly. Oh he was so clever, "You are genius! Yes, someone like him! Modern world have thousands of Stuart. You know, if you landed in my time, it won't take long before you get used to modern world."

"I'll take your word for it."

"So how many exams do you have left?"

"Two next week then it will be over."

"What will you do when the exams are over?"

"Focus on the next work and read few books I have been wanting to."

"No rest?"

"I shall take it slowly."

 _Which was his word for no rest but he won't hole himself in the library or barn for it_ , Julia thought.

Then he seemed to hesitate, his lips forming incompletely as though he was on precipice of speech.

"You're worrying again." She commented, having studied several of his expression to – not completely – but enough to discern some of the emotions flashing by.

He seemed surprised by this and cleared his throat, controlling his countenance before, "The school closes in July after the final exam is over and everyone will be returning to their home, including I."

"And you're worried about me."

He opened his mouth once again, closing with thought before remarking, "I am worried what mischief you will be up to."

"Well if you're worried about me staying here, no worries 'cuz I've got somewhere to stay outside of the school during the holiday weeks."

He blinked then deduced it must be with that former, pregnant maid but feigned ignorance, "With whom?"

Julia narrowed her eyes, pointedly revealing, "Let's not play dumb, Vincent, if you can learn an ancient language at fourteen, then you're clever enough to know who I'll be staying with and I'm clever enough to keep up with the Kardashians in chronological order which means I know you've been forcing Helga to show you my letters to Clare before you give the permission to send it off."

Finishing her tirade, she studied Vincent for his reaction and as expected, even getting caught with red hands, his face betrayed no ounce of emotions that suggested any hint of shame or guilt or surprise. He regarded her coolly before handing her the phone back and slacking against the haystack in an ungentlemanly fashion, declaring succinctly "You knew."

"Of course I knew. Helga didn't tell me before you blame her or something."

"I know she didn't tell." He confidently stated. "I presume you are sharp enough to discern guilt on her face whenever you ask her to send those letters."

"Actually, Helga is a good liar. The 'what-if' were all from my intuition of you as a person."

"Oh?"

"I could write a whole book on my tingling spider sense but unfortunately, no computers here. I have a feeling you're hiding something from me. Like breaking, first page news level secret."

He looked at her with an almost daring stare and it was one of few times he became tall enough to stare down at her who was on her stomach with neck strained up to look at him.

"You have a good intuition."

"You're not going to tell me?"

"Perhaps utilise that good intuition to figure it out yourself?"

"Do I look like paparazzi to you?"

"The what?"

"A photographer who stalks high-profile person all day and taking picture of them doing anything while disregarding their privacy."

"I think it would be a good use of your time, no?"

Julia snorted loudly, "Oh, you have no idea what kind of hell paparazzi can bring can you? If you were born in a modern day to a modern aristocrat family, fifty people will follow you around every day, every hours, every second, taking your pictures whether you're eating, sleeping, attending school or going out with your friends and any embarrassing, humiliating pictures will be on the front news the very next day for the whole world to see – you sure you want that? If you want it, I can be your hell."

"Is that some sort of twisted love proposal?" A small, sly smile reached him and she burst out laughing.

"Pfft to you, a kid?" Almost instantly, his face faltered and the temperature dropped as she quickly added, "Because it's illegal. You're fourteen, I'm nineteen nearly twenty so in the eyes of the law, you're a minor and I'm legally an adult so any inappropriate relationship is illegal because I would be taking advantage of you."

"But I'm the one taking advantage of you."

She blinked, brows burrowed, "What? No, we are in a mutual symbiotic relationship, you help me out and I help you out in whatever way I can."

"Of course." He simply said as he gathered his book and slung the backpack on his shoulder, "I am leaving; I will bring your dinner later."

Julia watched helplessly as sulking boy made his way out of the barn, clearly not amused by her belittling of his age although she understood the reason. When she was fourteen, the last thing she wanted was someone treating and viewing her as a child with desperate desire to grow up quickly.

She sighed, falling back to rest her cheek against the cool wooden floor of the barn.  _Kids are so bothersome. Wait till you get to my age, then you'd realise why Peter Pan said no to growing up._

* * *

The rest of the month passed without much incident, except that boy can really hold his grudge and while not outright ignoring her, inaugurated a cold indifference to their relationship. Perhaps this formality was what should have been in this acquaintanceship, an aspect that a 19th century aristocrats would have been more familiar and comfortable being shared between a man and a woman and not the playful, teasing one that she was more accustomed to that might have conveyed a wrong message. That type of thing was definitely not something she intended. Never. Ever.

So came the final day of school and all the junior and senior students began to head toward the gate with their luggage where their carriages awaited to drive them back home until start of the new term. Julia, in the school uniform, met up with Vincent prior to the chaotic assembly as he had offered to take her to Clare's dwelling which she accepted purely because she was too lazy to walk for an hour.

She was surprised to see a genteel Japanese man, while youthful looking; one could see few age lines already beginning to form in subtle corner of his face upon close inspection suggesting he was in his late twenties to early thirties. He wore a neatly pressed black and white suit with a brooch proudly displaying the Phantomhive crest in the left of his chest and greeted them with a fatherly smile, taking the bag from the young master's hand.

"Young master, I did not know you had another company with you."

Vincent shared a glance with her before explaining, "A fellow friend of mine, he need to head to city and I agreed to take him on our way home."

Deepening her voice, he stretched is arm with an open hand, "Sebastian Rolls-Royce, nice to meet you."

The man regarded him for a moment, smile slightly expanding as he return with the firm shake of their hands, "Nice to make an acquaintance, Master Rolls-Royce, please address me as Tanaka. I am the butler of the Phantomhive family."

She liked this man.

Vincent, however, seemed tense throughout their interaction, avoiding a long talk with her on their way to the Central. He was conscious of Tanaka's presence, she could glean, and careful with his wordings so she remained mostly quiet throughout and Tanaka seemed content to not initiate any small talk other than brief 'how did you come to know each other?' as she brushed it off with a typical excuse one could think of as to why a senior would befriend a junior. She was a recent foreign transfer student and Vincent had been the one to guide him around at school and they became close. Tanaka nodded satisfactorily.

She asked to be dropped off in Russell Street, a popular coffeehouse area and great social levellers, open to all and indifferent to social status that it wouldn't be strange for a senior school boy to meet up with a lovely lady. Julia had already arranged with Clare to meet in Will's Coffee House, eat and head home. Thankfully, Vincent had given her some money few days earlier.

Unfortunately Helga declined to come along although she promised to drop by at a later date.

With a brisk nod, she stepped down from the carriage and waved goodbye.

"Goodbye Vincent, enjoy your summer."

Vincent returned with a nod, "You as well. I shall see you in school."

Julia watched as the carriage trotted down the street, waiting until it was out of sight before she began to observe her surroundings. She was familiar with Russell Street and Bloomsbury like the back of her hand in the modern time, with Bloomsbury being home to most London universities and was pivot of students' community. Although her campus was located in South Kensington, she favoured the bustling Bloomsbury etched with long history of diverse students' life and with extensive collections of academics in Senate House, it meant she and her friends often travelled to mingle with other fellow students there.

But the Russell Street that was thriving in front of her eyes right now was a mere alien place in a strange déjà vu like dream, familiar yet strange alternate world she was dropped in. Gone were the students, gone were the professionals, gone were the academics, gone were the traffic that never moves, no more double decker bus, no more underground, no more sky tall buildings, no more planes in the sky.

Everything she knew was gone. Replaced by 19th century Victorian England.

A hand clasped her shoulder, jolting her out of this inner turmoil that was sweeping her mind. Her head whipped to the hand's owner, gazing into the familiar dark, round orbs that Julia always thought was her most fascinating feature.

"Julia..?" It was the first time Clare saw her cross-dressed despite her previous message entailing that she will be wearing a school uniform and not of the maid.

"Clare…" Julia could feel her voice tremble, eyes tearing as she threw her arms around the delicate former maid.

"Woah!"

It was good to see something familiar in this unfamiliar world.

"Uh..Julia…" Clare began, voice muffled by the uniform, "I don't mind the hugging but..people are staring."

Julia lifted her face from Clare's shoulder, noticing that few (actually all) stares were on them. While they were standing in the middle of street surrounded by the cafés vibrant with various patrons at its peak time of the day, the image of a public school boy and a lady in embrace who's standing was obviously too moderate for their paths to ever cross and by a miracle if so, rarely led to a positive relation.

"Right, sorry, I've suddenly became emotional."

"Are you alright?" Clare frowned, seeing the wetness in Julia's eyes, "A-and why are you dressed as.."

"Long story, I'll explain let's go to that café you mentioned about."

It seemed Will's Coffee House was a famous, foremost café in England favoured and frequently visited by famous patrons from the Royals to Bourgeoisie driven to find good connections.

"They don't have venti, pumpkin spice frappe with extra cream?"

"Uh what?"

"Can I take your order, sir, Miss?"

"Venti iced skinny hazelnut macchiato, two pumps of honey syrup, extra shot, light ice, no whip."

The waiter couldn't possibly look more lost than her being stuck in 19th century, "Uh, Sir, I'm sorry what?"

"Then grande chai-tea latte, pumpkin milk, white water, 2% foam extra hot, but not too hot."

The waiter's and Clare's jaws dropped down until they were gaping unattractively and the two were staring at her as though she grew an extra two heads.

"We will have cream tea with Earl Grey, thank you George."

"Actually George, she will be having water. Just one tea."

"Yes, Miss, Sir." The waiter nodded and walked backed to the kitchen.

"Julia..what was that all about?"

Julia shrugged, "The cafés I used to go to would know what I'm talking about." Actually she would instantly be labelled as that total bitchy customer and that it was a modern term for declaring war with the barista and people waiting in line. Even so, she'd rather take the death staggering glares the barista gave as they wrote down the order on the cup along with deliberate misspelling of her name than the world where they didn't even know what a cappuccino was.

"What sort of cafés did you visit?" Clare muttered as she thanked the waiter for the tea and refreshments.

"You want to explain why you are dressed as a student even though you are a maid?" Clare hissed, lines of worries framing her lovely face, "Do you know what the matron will do to you if she finds out you stole a student's uniform and imitate being a Weston's student?! She will put you in prison! Are you crazy?!"

Yeah, she saw Orange is the New Black, nope prison life wasn't for her and she wasn't planning to be anyone's bitch.

"Would it be difficult to just say trust me?"

"Yes."

"Well, trust me. It's a long story and there are some things I can't really explain but I'm safe. I'm being looked after."

Then Clare's face paled, her whole body stiffening, "..A-are you..you're..are you sle–"

"Nope! Let's not go there, no. We are in a purely business relationship for a purely business purpose."

"..Right."

"Anyway, let's move on from me and focus on the real treasure. How's the baby? Are you eating well? You eating lots of fruit and vegetables and meat right? But make sure you cook the meat well and avoid any moulded cheese, raw shellfish and limit your intake of oily fish like salmon, sardines and always boil milk before you drink them. No alcohol or smoking. Any morning sickness? Make sure you keep warm but open windows to let some fresh air in and lots of sunlight in the morning 'cuz Vitamin D, and absolutely no heavy lifting or stress, at least 8 hours of sleep. You are visiting the hospital regularly right? No wearing tight corset and light exercise each day." Julia was glad to see Clare wearing an empire style dress, foregoing corset to avoid putting too much pressure on the abdomen.

"Yes, mother(!) It does feel awkward not wearing a corset anymore but the doctor agreed not wearing a corset is good for the wellbeing of the baby." Clare mentioned, "The baby is fine. There's a little bump, not very noticeable but it's there when you look. I try to eat but I get nauseous every time and throw up and I cry because I feel hungry but the thought of food turns my stomach more and I can't stand the smell of eggs." She picked up the glass of water, taking a small slip.

"Drink lots of water. Especially after you vomit."

"I try to."

Julia smothered the scone with generous amount of clotted cream, taking a large bite. At least these homemade scones tasted delicious compared to the modern variations. One positive thing about 19th century.

"It suits you."

"Hm?"

"Being a man." Clare said, mentioning her horrendous table manners.

"Thanks, it sure is more comfortable."

"I found a new job."

"Hmm?"

"I got an apprenticeship as a seamstress, it's only been a month since I've started and with the money you gave me, I'm thinking of opening a small shop after few years."

Julia grinned, "That's great! Maybe you can practise your sewing skills on me? I need some clothes actually. And I got some great dress designs I was hoping you could make."

"I'm not great but sure, plan up some designs and I'll make it when I get better."

They spent the whole day talking and buying few essentials as they walked back to her small flat in the corner of Regent Street, most popularly known in this time as well as in hers' 'centre of fashion' selling imported and exotic products and beloved by the wealthy upper class and niche consumers. It also meant the rent was considerably higher than a more affordable neighbourhood like Covent Garden, Soho and Gerrard Street where, once a stylish residential area to the aristocrats, they had mostly moved onto a more fashionable area like Mayfair to be replaced by prostitutes, music halls and small theatres – something she wanted Clare and her unborn child to avoid.

* * *

Vincent kept his attention on the changing scenery from his carriage window, knowing fully well Tanaka will be asking questions about Julia despite his silent insistence he had no intention of explaining.

"Will you grant me an answer as to why a woman is dressed as a Weston student?"

"Who is to say he is a woman in disguise?"

"Young master, I am still sharp enough to discern between a man's features from a woman."

"We have an agreement. That is all I shall say."

"..What sort of agreement?" Tanaka asked with a particular gleam in his eyes.

Flustered, Vincent's jaw tensed before reassuring, "Gramps," He addressed the butler with the olden nickname he used to favour as a child due to the difficulty of pronouncing the foreign name and at present, when irritated by his unnecessary intercession, even if it were for his sake, "It is purely a business agreement."

"Yes, sir, let one hope it stays that way."

Vincent repressed the urge to groan, opting to close his eyes, cross his arms across his chest defectively and leaned back against the seat as the Phantomhive manor came into the view.

* * *

That later evening, Vincent was called into his mother's study and he couldn't shake off the ominous feeling that the talk of the discussion might be far from the usual subjects of his school or matters related to Phantomhive name. He remembered any chidings or berating for whatever he or Francis may have incurred as children happened behind the closed doors of his mother's study and those experiences had left such an imprint in his mind that he and Francis were instinctually gripped by nervousness when they were called to this very room.

Her mother's back greeted him as he knocked and opened the study's door, unresponsive to his entering and for a while they stood in their respective place, unmoving. The slender, ivory cigarette holder delicately held between her index and middle fingers, white dragon smoke snaking up to the air from its end.

He could espy the reflection of his mother from the dark window; face partially darkened by the shadows the light failed to reach and occasional escape of thick smoke from her pink lips. Vincent wondered what she could be observing through the abyss that was the outside of this manor.

She spoke first, appraising the start of the discourse, "I hear you have been indulging in an interesting hobby."

The slight twitch at the corner of his lip was the only indication of his displeasure. He hated being caught out, priding on cunningness he honed since young but recently, that had been the case. It wasn't that he underestimated these women's intelligence, grudgingly respected them and even revelled in the challenge it brought, it still irked him nonetheless that he was the one on the losing end of this game. He hated losing.

"Tanaka told you."

"His loyalty lies in the Phantomhive family. I am its head for now. Anything that concerns us, I should know."

For now. She spoke as though the title was such a transient thing. As though she would not be one soon. As though she would die.

"It is not something to be concerned, mother."

"What sort of arrangement is it?"

"Business. Nothing more."

She turned around, walking around the desk to settle one of her legs on the top, resting most of her weight against it.

"And how did you and that girl come to an agreement?" Her voice was sharp although he knew it was a sign she was worried that her son may have been taken advantage.

"There was an incident, of which I was not involved. She asked me for my help to find her way back home and I accepted."

She pondered over his reason, nodding, "It is very noble of you, helping a lady in distress although it is unlike you to act like an altruistic Samaritan. What made you wish to extend your help and bear the responsibility that follows it?"

"She is.."  _a time traveller,_ "Foreign."

"Exotic."

"Unusually strange." He corrected.

"Insane."

 _Sort of._ "Cultural difference."

She regarded her son apprehensively, taking another puff of the deathly stick. The acrid, sharp, sour note resembling a burning timber pierced his nose, stirring unwanted association he formed of the smell to that woman.

"What sort of culture was she born into for you to sneak her into the college and have her dressed as a male student to be smuggled out of school?" He could hear her voice gain a momentum, rising higher and deeper, "You have been concealing her in the school ground from the staff and students all the while carelessly jeopardising yourself to the risk you've created."

By the time she finished, his head was lowered so that his mother could not see his eyes. Mind racing to find a rational excuse to this ridiculous state of affairs he had placed himself in. Regret was the first emotion he registered, then anger, after aggrievement and finally, resignation.

Claudia knew her son would not retaliate to her rebuke, verbally at least and not immediately. He was the type to do so after methodically calculating the most effective method of counterstroke at the moment where the damage will be greater than the one he had received. Fortunately, Francis advocated a more moral idea of lex talionis.

"I wish you spared a grain of that sympathy for your sister when her cat was killed by a stray and you thought it was a good idea to voice welcoming a pet dog in front of the cat's grave we were paying respect to." Claudia muttered, stubbing out the cigarette on the ashtray.

"So, what makes her different? From anyone's perspective, you are like a boy besotted and I hear she is older."

"One cannot enter into a contract of formal agreement with the other sex without needless emotions being involved?"

The corner of her lips lifted, "It can become complicating if one is not too careful."

"Like you and Undertaker?"

The left index on the table flinched slightly, so small and inconspicuous anyone else would think her son's sharp retort meant nothing to her but both knew this affected her more than anything he could say in its place.

A defeated smile appeared on Claudia's lips, a sign that her son had won and realisation of Vincent's wordless plea beneath the refined eluding of the subject, "It seems there are some things I am unaware of, I apologise. Even the closest family have untold secrets from each other and this seems to be yours'. You may go."

Vincent nodded, turning away from his mother.

"Vincent," His mother's call halted him in his track but did not look back to her.

"Can I..meet her?" The streak of implore in her hesitated request stunned him, eyes widened by the encountering of his mother's unfamiliar side, a rare peek at her vulnerability left him perplexed to how he should respond.

"I shall ask her." Vincent managed to answer.

* * *

** A/N: ** **Thank you for reading! The story is picking up pace and would love to hear your thought on my future plan regarding this story.**

**I'm thinking of doing few time skips to the day of *gasp* Claudia's death which would bring Vincent into the centre plot of the story and everything else that entails it.**

**Also, we have yet to unveil the mystery surrounding the Phantomhive family and Undertaker's relationship to them nor do we know how Claudia died which really stirs up lots of questions and confusion amongst us readers.**

**That also means as a writer, you have the freedom to carve out your own conclusion from past hints and canons. I'm pretty sure Yana-sensei will reveal the truth behind Phantomhive but by that time, this story would have evolved with its own plot. So this story will probably take a different route to canon Kuroshitsuji since generation before Ciel has not really been explored.**

**I'm rambling here, sorry, okay so time skips okay or nah? You wanna to read the slow developing relationship between them or get down to the business (ha!)? Time skip is unavoidable since I'm writing the story as few weeks to months passing than day passing time but when I say slow I mean not too often if you get what I mean compared to by the next chapter, Vincent is suddenly an adult and graduating.**


End file.
